


Secrets of the Dead

by Dovahkiin7718



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Adventure, Bretons (Elder Scrolls), Eventual Smut, F/M, Magic, Mystery, Necromancy, Romance, Souls / Ghosts, Tamriel, Torture, Zombies... Who doesn't like Zombies?!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:27:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 54,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22837798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dovahkiin7718/pseuds/Dovahkiin7718
Summary: After the Knahaten Flu worked its way through High Rock and took her mother, Morgana discovered she is a necromancer. She has learned how to wield her powers, help others in a unique way, and make some coin on the side. Keeping to the shadows she has kept her secret safe for the time being, but her world will be turned upside-down and sooner or later someone will discover her secret. Being a necromancer, she should know that not even the dead can keep secrets.
Kudos: 8





	1. Death Bed

The room was small and only contained a single bed, dresser, and a small side table. An aged woman lay on the simple wooden bed, covers wrapped neatly around her. A single window looked out above the busy streets of Daggerfall. While the sun was shining through the window, it wasn’t enough to break through the despair of the place. The door was left open to the rest of the apartment, which wasn’t much. There was an open room that served as the kitchen and living space, and various bookshelves took up most of the remaining space. To the one side there was a low table covered in notes and various magical items, and a mess of alchemical supplies and components.

Within the bedroom, the woman’s graying hair was matted with sweat against her face and the pillow beneath her. Occasionally, she turned to her side coughing and blood dripped from her mouth into a pile of absorbent cloth that sat on the floor below. The effort weakened her considerably each time the coughing wracked her body and she fell back onto the bed paler than the moment before. More sweat trailed down her face and mingled with her bloody tears. 

The Knahaten Flu they called it, and it was finally spreading through High Rock, leaving those infected dead within a week. They said it started in Stormhold and worked its way across Tamriel. No one had been able to come up with a cure as of yet, or even figured out how it passed from one person to the next. Even rumors that King Gardner and his family in Wayrest had been infected recently were circulating.

Sitting crossed-legged on the floor in front of the low table of notes and supplies was a young woman, barely more than a girl. She was intently focused on the book that lay open in front of her, brows furrowed in concentration. She flipped back and forth through the pages, searching. Her red hair cascaded about her shoulders, falling out of whatever restraint she had attempted earlier that day. In her left hand, a hint of blue light danced around her fingers as she whispered the words she was reading from one of the pages of the book.

Another cough came from the bedroom, and the girl looked up from the table with concern. The woman was doubled over in a coughing fit and leaned father and farther over the edge of the bed. The girl pushed herself up from the floor and in a few long strides she reached the older woman, catching her by the shoulders. With a good amount of effort, the girl is able to get the woman safely back on the bed and tuck her back in. Taking up a clean cloth from the side table, she began to wipe away the blood and sweat trailing down the woman’s face.

“Mor-Morgana… I must..” The woman attempted to speak to the girl.

Wiping away more blood the girl replied, “Hush, don’t try to speak. You know it brings on more coughing fits if you talk too much.”

“No, I must…” The woman paused, “I don’t have much time, I feel it.”

The girl continued to wipe away the blood as more gurgled up as the woman spoke. No, we still have time. I can figure this out, she thought to herself. She wasn’t ready to give up just yet on finding something, anything to help her mother live through this flu, this plague.

“I met your father working through the beginning of my apprenticeship with the court mage of Wayrest.” She coughed less violently before continuing, “I had to keep you a secret from the guild as long as possible, even from…” A long moment passed as she went through another coughing fit and the girl helped her back into bed again.

“Mother, why are you telling me this?” There was growing concern inMorgana’s voice.

“Go back to Wayrest, take my journals… Find your father…” She coughed a few times more. “He will know if you show him the journals.”

“Who will know mother? Who am I supposed to find?”

Her mother’s eyes were closing with slower and slower blinks and she tried to remain focused. The blood flow from her nose and mouth slowed and darkened, her breath was shallow and uneven. The girl put her hands on her mother’s shoulders and gave a light shake, hoping to bring the woman around again. One hand, without a cloth, moved to touch her mother’s cheek, and it was growing cold and clammy the longer she held her hand there.

With one last attempt, the woman opened her eyes and strained to look at the girl. “Your father is…,” She took a deep, rattling breath. “King... Gardner…”

After the last word, her mother was thrown into another violent fit. She sat up with the last of her strength and coughed up thick, almost black blood onto the blankets. The force of each cough shook the bed and more blood came from her eyes and nose, covering her face. The girl had stood from the bed to prevent herself from getting splattered with her mother’s blood, the rags still bunched in her hands. 

“I… What…” Morgana didn’t get to finish her thought before her mother swayed and toppled out of the narrow bed onto the floor. The blankets still held her legs closer to the bed, but her torso remained motionless, face-down on the floor. She wasn’t prepared for this moment, not at all. The determination that she would find something to cure her mother kept her focused on that and that alone. There was no room in her thoughts for the what ifs and thens.

Kneeling down, Morgana called out to her mother and reached out to roll her over. Her hands were shaking as she struggled with the tangled blankets and her mother’s body. There was no response, no breathing, and when she checked, no pulse. She began to cry, tears freely falling down her cheeks.

“Mother… No, don’t leave me.” She shook her mother’s shoulders, “No, Mother, don’t… Come back to me…”

A blue glow began to emanate from her hands, but Morgana could not see it through her tears. The glow grew and danced almost like firelight, a bright blue swirled with black, and her mother’s body began to absorb the magic. The light and colors reflected off of her tears and Morgana opened her eyes wide in surprise. She couldn’t remove her hands from her mother’s shoulders, and the magic continued to flow into it. Her breathing became heavy as she began to panic, and her heart thudded against her ribs.

Her mother’s once beautiful blue eyes opened, bloody, clouded in death, but glowing with magic, and her body began to rise from the floor until the form rested on its own feet. Morgana pulled her hands back finally and covered her mouth to stifle any screams that may escape her lips. The reanimated body levitated before her and she could see that though it was her mother before her, she was no longer there. It was just the corpse staring at her without actually seeing that she was there, the mouth slack, gaping with no sound. Morgana’s sobs came freely once more, and she stepped backwards until her butt hit the bookcase behind her. She couldn’t think, her brain was swirling with the information her mother gave her, and now her recently deceased mother was standing in front of her as a corpse.

The magic started to fade from her mother’s body, and the light dimmed from the eyes, Morgana stood there unsure of what to do. Slowly as the magic dissipated, her mother sank to the floor. Her limbs folded underneath her, the dead weight causing some to crack and pop. Once the descent brought the corpse closer to a kneeling position the rest of the magic left in a swirl of blue light and disappeared as fast as Morgana could blink from the brightness. After the magic was gone, the torso fell to the floor with a sickening thud, and Morgana jumped. Her mother was gone, again, and she didn’t dare touch the body in fear of reanimating the corpse, again. She could see no evidence that would lead someone to believe there had been magic used on the body. It was just the corpse of her mother lying in a heap on the floor. Morgana’s sobs quieted and her breathing was slowing, but she still stood frozen against the bookcase. Her hands slowly lowered from her mouth to grasp the shelves behind her and use them to maintain her balance.

Minutes passed with Morgana staring down at her dead mother, and the apartment was silent. Not even the wind blew through small gaps in the walls or around the window to disturb the quiet. Dust danced and settled in the rays of light that still shone through the window as the sun arched its way through the sky. She was attempting to understand what had just happened, and she could only agree with herself on the basics. Her mother was dead, taken by the plague flu. Some of her magic had reanimated her mother’s dead body. Her mother’s corpse still lay unnaturally on the floor of the bedroom. She needed to get help to move the body to the temple for burial. She needed to get away from this apartment, and never come back. There was no reason to stay in this place with the freshest memories being what they were, and she was curious if anything would come about after, no if, she met the King of Wayrest.

Morning had passed and it was well into the afternoon before Morgana pushed herself away from the bookcase and took those few steps towards her mother. She knelt down and brushed some of the hair away from her mother’s face, and she felt the sensation that she would cry again. Closing her eyes, Morgana took a few deep breaths to steady herself, willing the tears to hold. After a moment, she opened her eyes and began the task of moving her mother back to the filthy, blood and sweat covered bed. She also made a mental note to make sure that the sheets were burned, and might as well burn the whole bed. 

It took a considerable amount of effort, struggling, and the better part of an hour for Morgana to get her mother situated back in the bed. She had lost track of how many times she had lost control of all or part of the corpse, which usually caused her to lose her balance and fall or knock something over. The lantern that normally sat on the side table was smashed on the floor after an arm swept it off the surface. Now she sat on the floor with her back resting against the dresser, breathing heavily, figuring out her next move. First, she determined, was the task of putting the bedroom back in order. There was no way she wanted anyone to know that her mother had been… out of bed. With another deep breath, Morgana got up and cleaned and straightened the bedroom. The lantern was replaced with a different one and the pieces disposed of.

At dusk, Morgana finally left the apartment. She shut the door behind her and double checked that it locked before heading down the stairs and out onto the street. She adjusted a pack that was strung across her body, it was heavy and packed full of everything she was taking with her, and set off down the road. The market was quieting down as people worked their way back to their homes for evening chores and family dinner. While she walked, she could see children trying to get in the last minutes of play while their mothers called them to come inside. She knew that there were many families tucked away inside, just like she had been, caring for their loved ones as they battled the flu. The windows were lit up by lantern light to signal who was already in their homes, and occasionally she could hear crying coming from those closed up buildings.

The walk to the temple of Arkay took longer than normal, and Morgana knew she was dragging her feet dreading what she was going to have to say. If she kept it to herself and didn’t acknowledge it out loud it couldn’t really be true, but she knew she was only fooling herself. Down the street she could see the temple, and the brightness of its lights held off the gloom. It was only an illusion, Morgana knew, and she could see outside on the steps a few people lingered solemn and most of them were crying. She adjusted her bag and averted her gaze as she walked up the steps upon reaching the temple. At the top she could see the door was open and a few priests and priestesses of Arkay were consoling the living. With hesitation, and the memory of her accidental magic once again on her mind, Morgana walked in.

One wall was lined with beds, or what you might consider a bed when you didn’t have time to make a proper one. The pews had been relocated to another area or stacked up along the opposite wall to make room. The beds all had occupants, everyone had the sheets pulled up over their heads. With the Knahaten Flu working its way through the cities and towns of High Rock, the temples had filled with the sick and the dead. There just weren't enough people to stay on top of the situation and the number of the ailing just kept growing. Morgana spotted a priestess that had just finished covering a young man. Upon seeing the visitor enter, the priestess stood from her kneeling position and walked over towards Morgana.

“Greetings,” The woman bowed slightly with her hands clasped in front of her. “You’re looking a bit pale, are you in need of assistance?” Her features were soft and caring, but Morgana could see the dark circles underneath her eyes.

“Thank you, no.” Morgana paused, “I’m sorry, yes, but not for myself really.”

The priestess gave her a look of confusion, but waited patiently for her to finish.

“It’s my mother, she…” Another pause and a deep breath. “She died just earlier today from the Knahaten Flu and I have no way to…” There it was, out in the open, spoken out loud. No way to take it back. 

Morgana stumbled over her words as she continued, “Here’s the key to our apartment, she’s in the only bedroom. I have gold for you. I’m not going back.” She took out her key and some gold from her pocket as she spoke and stuffed them into the woman’s hands before she could interrupt. Continuing, she told the priestess where the apartment was located, not noticing the tears that had begun to streak down her face.

“My dear, we will take care of it. Why don’t you sit down for a moment and…”

Morgana shook her head, “No. Thank you. I must go to the Mages Guild now. I must go.” She thanked the woman one more time before turning around and quickly leaving the temple.

The walk from the temple to the guild had taken longer still than her walk from the apartment. Thoughts about what she was to do next swirled around in her mind. Should she do what her mother told her to and go to Wayrest with the journals she now carried in her bag? Should she try to confront the King and demand… Demand what? Was there something that she wanted from him? The man never knew that he had another daughter stashed away in Daggerfall. Nothing he could do would change the past thirteen years. She determined that she would not ask for money, and downright refused to ask the King to take care of her like a father should. She didn’t need him, that was for sure. So why go to Wayrest, Morgana wondered and pondered as she walked. While she made her way to the Mages Guild, Morgana was able to regain her composure. When she finally reached the doors, night had fallen.

She didn’t bother knocking because she was a member of the guild in her own right. Her mother saw to it that she made it through the initiation after she had turned ten years old, a family tradition she explained to Morgana. After that her mother had worked with her, teaching her the basics of magic and trying to discover what class she would become proficient. She could do the minor spells or incantations, but it didn’t come as natural to her with some of the schools. Her mother was determined that in a few years time they would discover what magic Morgana wielded. She wasn’t sure her mother would be too pleased with her newest discovery.

Most of the mages were home and the few that were left had found comfortable seating to read or had taken over an available desk to work. Morgana searched around to see if she could find her mother’s friend, Julile. The woman had been a childhood friend of her mother’s ever since they joined the Mages Guild together, and she was the only other person Morgana wanted to inform of her mother’s death. As she looked around there was no sign of Julile, and her desk was vacant. The thought of leaving Julile a note came to mind. Morgana thought it would be a bit easier to leave the note on the desk, otherwise she would possibly be convinced to stay and live with Julile and her family. She knew that it couldn’t be an option and didn’t want to be a burden on anyone.

Morgana quietly walked over to Julile’s desk, sat down, and wrote out the details of her note and finished it with a promise to come back one day to visit and that she’d try to write. She had never been that close to Julile or her family, but knowing the woman she would be worried about her friend’s daughter. Once the note was finished, Morgana sealed it with a small circle of wax and left it on the top of the desk for Julile to find. She repositioned her pack across her body and without a final look left the Mages Guild. After a short walk to the stable, she paid for a ride out of Daggerfall.


	2. A New Day

It had been a long night in the carriage. There was a small family with a sleeping child heading to Aldcroft and a young couple setting out to find work in Camlorn riding in the wagon, in addition to Morgana. They had all gossiped and chatted on the road to Aldcroft, every topic possible to avoid talking about the flu. Everyone knew that was the main reason people were trying to leave the city, following rumors that it hadn't spread to certain areas. Once or twice, Morgana couldn't be sure, the group she traveled with tried to engage her in conversation. She ignored them and instead started reading through her mother's journals. The bumps in the road made the lanterns on the wagon swing, which made it difficult to understand what was on the pages, but it kept the conversation at bay. 

Thankfully the trip to Aldcroft was uneventful, and the family departed with the child still sleeping and cradled in his father’s arms. There was an hour break for everyone to stretch their legs or attend to any needs before getting back on the road. Morgana stuffed the journal back into her bag and went about her business in silence before getting back into the wagon. As she sat there waiting for the driver and the young couple to come back, she ate a chunk of bread and some cheese that she packed and looked around at the town of Aldcroft.

To one side, she could see the beginnings of the swamp and the mist that covered most of the area. Once and a while, she could see the reflection of eyes beyond in the darkness, but nothing came close enough to tell what it was. A cold breeze blew up from the other side and sent shivers through Morgana, and she could smell the salt in the air. A set of eyes appeared to be watching her as she had also been watching it, but as the wind blew, it brought sounds of the others returning to the wagon. As the sound reached the bog, the eyes disappeared in the undulating mist. She continued to stare out where the eyes had been while the driver and other passengers loaded up. 

The driver took notice of the direction Morgana was looking as he climbed up onto his seat. "I don't recommend wandering into the marshes, especially this time of night. Dark creatures roam about, and you'll likely never find your way back out again." He sat and gathered the reins, asking the horses to move onwards, "Best we be off and not linger too close." 

The mist worked its way around them and covered most of the road as the night moved along, and the lanterns gave off just enough light to see a few feet around them. It was quiet, the young couple eventually stopped talking to each other, and the only sound that remained was the soft trotting of the horses as they walked through the night. Once and a while, noises drifted into hearing from the marshlands, but it seemed that Morgana was the only one to hear them. Or at least the others didn't react when they heard the sounds, she wasn't sure and remained quiet. They passed the occasional lamppost, showing the progress of time and distance. With each passing post, it did nothing to suppress the feeling that they had been on the road for much longer than they actually were. 

The quietness of the night and the soft sounds of the horses were soothing, and soon Morgana felt her eyelids drooping as she began to nod off. Sitting up, she attempted to keep herself awake and shifted on the bench quietly. On the opposite side of the wagon, the couple had fallen asleep leaning against each other, the young man was snoring lightly. She looked around them, through the mist, to keep her mind awake and thinking, but she saw nothing beyond the darkness. Even with all of her shifting and watching, Morgana was eventually lulled into sleep.

The sudden jolt of the carriage stopping brought Morgana and the other two to a startled, awakened state. She looked around and quickly picked up her bag from the floor of the wagon, and slung it over one shoulder.  
"Here, we are! Welcome to Camlorn ladies and gent." The driver said, cheerfully. "The Camlorn Inn is just ahead, and they always have a warm fire going."

Morgana clambered off the wagon, her body a bit stiff from the uncomfortable position she had probably been sleeping in. She gave a polite nod to the driver and gave him a small tip.

The driver accepted the tip with a gracious nod, "Thank you, lass, and might I recommend speaking to the barkeep at the Inn there if you're looking for a nice room." He helped the couple get their things out of the wagon and made the same recommendation to them. Not looking back, Morgana walked to the inn.

The sign swung slightly on the post outside, and it pictured a crossed knife and fork. Clearly, this was an obvious choice to indicate which building was the local inn. It was built in the same style as the homes and shops in Daggerfall, which was not surprising if she really thought about it. Bretons tend to stick to more basic architecture with very little variety and artistic flare. Camlorn was known for being the melting pot of the region of Glenumbra, but that must not extend to their buildings. Lanterns were lit along the streets, and firelight lit up the windows of the inn, but there weren't many sounds coming from inside. Morgana reached the steps and took them up to the door, opening it when she reached it.

Inside the fire burned brightly and the warmth hit Morgana like a stone wall, she had to squint and blink a few times to adjust to the difference in light compared to outside.

“Welcome! Welcome!” A woman came out from behind the bar, picked up her skirts, and shuffled over to Morgana. “Come sit down next to the fire, it’ll get the nighttime chill out of your bones.” She took Morgana by the arm and led her over to the two-sided hearth that stood in the middle of the room, the stonework chimney reaching through the peaked ceiling.

“Would you like something to eat? Some ale, or perhaps a cup of warm tea?”

Morgana sat reluctantly where the woman had led her, “No, thank you, but I would like to get a room please… if it’s not too expensive.”

The woman looked at Morgana closely, noting her young age, and then with a sweet smile replied, "I will show you to your room, and then after you have had a good long rest, we can talk about the cost."

It was startling to Morgana how kind this woman was, and she honestly didn't know what to expect, knowing nothing about the other cities in High Rock. When she studied the woman, she guessed that the innkeeper had to be around her mother's age, though she had more smile and laugh lines than the latter.

“Thank you.” She replied, and a yawn followed her statement. The heat next to the hearth was too warm and was making Morgana realize how tired she was.

Seeing the young girl yawn, "Come now, dear, let's get you up to bed." The woman retook Morgana's arm and led her up the set of stairs on the right side of the central room.

Each side had stairs that lead up to a walkway that ran the full length of the inn, and evenly spaced doors indicated where the rooms were. As they walked along, Morgana could hear various sounds coming from the rooms they passed, and most of that was different people snoring, and one mumbling in their sleep. They stopped at the last door, and the kind innkeeper opened it for her to enter.

"Sweet dreams," The woman started to close the door after Morgana stepped inside. "Come downstairs when you're ready, and I'll get you a nice meal to start your day." Without waiting for a response, closed the door with a soft click.

It was a modest room very similar to the room she had in the apartment, the one she gave over to her mother when she became ill… She thought it best not to think about that right now, and placed her bag on the floor next to the bed. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she noted that the blankets were soft and clean.

Well, I made it to Camlorn. Morgana laid down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. She didn't think sleep would come as her mind revisited the events of the day, repeating them over and over again. The memories finally stopped when too exhausted, she fell asleep. 

The sun rose, and the light shone through a window that was above the bed, and the brightness of it woke Morgana. Before she could open her eyes, she could hear other people up and about, walking around and chatting with each other in the other rooms and outside in the main hall. She opened her eyes and looked up to see if there were any curtains or shutters to cover the window, but there was nothing. Bretons and their early mornings… Morgana resorted to covering her head with a pillow and groaning. Usually, she would have been up with the rest of the city, but with the most recent events, the exhaustion had hit her full force. She could stay there, in the semi-darkness, the pillow, and blankets provided, or she could get up and face the morning. 

Noises outside the room grew louder as more and more people exited their rooms, boots thudding on the walkway, doors shutting loudly, and Morgana groaned under the pillow. Her choice had been made for her, and there was no way she would be able to get back to sleep now. Reluctantly, she pushed the blankets away and flopped the pillow back where it belonged. Her shoes touched the wooden floor as she swung herself into a sitting position on the bed. Then she realized that she had not taken off her shoes or gotten undressed before falling asleep. She stood quickly and checked to see if she had made a mess of the blankets, from mud or any other thing that may have been on her shoes. Thankfully there wasn't any residue, and she sighed in relief. She went about cleaning herself up, redressing, and tidying up the room.

Once the room was cleaned to Morgana's satisfaction, she lifted her bag onto her shoulder and stepped out of the room. She could hear laughter, chatting, and the clang of plates, mugs, and utensils coming from below and walked to the railing to look over. It wasn't as crowded as the noise made it seem, but the clatter echoed in the lofty area. Only a few people were milling about, she saw the young couple from the wagon ride, and the innkeeper was bustling about picking up empty dishes. Most of the guests appeared to be in different stages of leaving, and with a sigh of relief, Morgana steeled herself and quietly walked down the stairs.

After reaching the bottom of the stairs, she found a place to sit farthest from the group of people that still remained in the inn. She sat with her back against the wall, behind a sturdy wooden table, both the stairs and the door were in sight. She placed her bag on the bench next to her. It didn't take long for the innkeeper to see Morgana and swiftly gather up a plate of food and drink.

“There you are dear, I was wondering when you were goin’ to come down.” She placed the plate in front of the young girl.

“Thank you,” Morgana replied. “What do I owe you for the room and food?”

"Right to business, I see. Well, let's say two gold pieces, and you'll be all settled up." The woman sat down across the table.

“Yes, ma’am.” She handed over the two gold pieces. “If I may ask you a question?”

"Please, call me Ann, and yes, you may ask anything you like."

“Yes, ma’am. I mean, Ann. Could you direct me to the city’s Mages Guild?” Morgana asked.

Ann smiled and gave her the directions to the guild, and instructed Morgana to eat up and not hesitate to ask for more if she wanted, before getting up and wandering over to assist other guests. The directions were easy enough to follow, but Morgana repeated them to herself as she ate her breakfast so she would not forget.

The inn quieted down as she ate, and Ann came back around a couple of times to chat and told her stories or facts about the city of Camlorn. The woman was kind and answered any questions that Morgana had about the city. She discovered that the city was a big trade center for High Rock and was home to a melting pot of cultures. The decision to first come to the city of Camlorn turned out to be the right one, and hopefully, she could find some answers to her questions. Setting a plan for herself, Morgana finished her breakfast, waved farewell to Ann, and set off to find her way through the city. First stop, Mages Guild.


	3. New Beginnings

The Mages Guild was similar to the one in Daggerfall, and just as large, or so it seemed to Morgana. Inside every wall looked like it was taken up by floor to ceiling bookshelves, stuffed with all the books that contained even the most remote mention of magic. Tables were scattered about, no longer in any sort of row, and each one was cluttered with books, documents, and an assortment of magical items. Everyone was preoccupied with a project or research, and none looked up when Morgana had entered. She was able to wander about for a time undisturbed, and eventually found her way to the desk of the Hall Magister.

At the desk sat the oldest man Morgana had ever seen. His hair was white and partially transparent, the little bit that was left, and stuck out in various directions like he had been recently shocked. When he looked up, as she stopped on the other side of the desk, she could see deep wrinkles and creases lining his face. He had a long white beard as unruly as the hair on his head, and it had ink stains from his fingers stroking it in thought. The desk had books stacked precariously around the edge, and piles of parchment were stuffed intermittently between the books. Half a dozen books lay open on the surface in front of the man, he was clearly gathering information from all of them.

The man squinted his eyes and smiled, “Hello there, young mage. I don’t believe I have seen you here before, I am Theostan Leotevius the Hall Magister here in Camlorn.” 

"Greetings Magister, I am Morgana Lorwulf, and I have only just arrived here last night." She bowed slightly as she replied.

"I see." Theostan studied her carefully for a moment, "Interesting that you should come to this guild today. It appears that you require something." A knowing look forms on his face as he waits for her response.

Morgana opened her mouth, but then closed it again as she determined what she should say. Her hands fidgeted with the strap of her bag while she contemplated what to tell him. She was uncomfortable with his gaze upon her, but continued to maintain eye contact. While his features did not have any trace of malice or suspicion, he had a sense of knowing about him. He patiently watched her make up her mind, a small smirk growing in the wrinkles around his mouth. 

Looking around quickly to see if anyone was in earshot, Morgana began her tale. She maintained a serious, yet quiet tone, while she told the Magister of her mother's death and her reanimation. Her hands stilled on her bag, and she stood with her back straight. Not once did his smile waver as she spoke, and she couldn't be sure, but she thought she saw amusement in his eyes. Once she finished the telling, Morgana stood silently watching and waiting for the expected reaction. He seemed exceptionally quiet while he took his time thinking, his eyes were fixed on her. At some point, he had set the quill down on the desk and had folded his hands under his chin.

After a moment, Theostan placed his hands on the surface of the desk and pushed himself up, with a surprising amount of strength despite his apparent age. He walked around to the same side of the desk as Morgana, keeping his eyes on her as he did. She held her ground, watching the Magister as he watched her. He was taller and stood straighter than she expected compared to the way he hunched while sitting at the desk, and the length of his beard was well past the belt of his robes. The kindness in his smile ebbed away at her unease as they watched each other, and the silence was tangible between them.

Theostan nodded finally and broke the silence, “You will stay here for a time in one of the spare rooms and further study the basics of magic. I will look into any special training you may need.” He stared at Morgana intensely, “I may know someone that can… help you practice when the time comes.”

To say that she was surprised by the Magister's words would be an understatement. She expected to be thrown from the building, cursed, or at the very least chastised for using illegal magic. What was it about this old man that made her feel like he knew more than what he appeared to? He was old, and there was no doubt in her mind that he had witnessed things that she couldn't begin to imagine, and he must know a significant number of places and people in Tamriel. Or maybe she was that naive in comparison to him that she couldn't actually fathom what he knew. And yet…

"Yes, sir," Morgana stood confidently. "Thank you, Magister."

He smiled, “Come,” and started walking closer to her. His wrinkled hand patted her on the shoulder as he continued past her. 

She followed the Magister back out into the larger area that held the desks and bookshelves, and he led her towards and up a set of stairs. They arrived at the top, and she could see the second floor looked out over the work areas and was again lined with bookshelves. As she walked along behind, she gently touched the books with her fingertips and tried to focus on them enough to remember some of the titles. Secretly she hoped that she would be able to read all of the books someday.

“You may read any of the books we have here at the guild,” Theostan spoke aloud as if he had read her thoughts, “but I suggest you start with the selection downstairs. The books down there are the most relevant to magic and its history or knowledge thereof.” His pace didn’t waver, and he didn’t look back at her.

Morgana tore her eyes away from the shelves, “Yes, sir.”

They proceeded to walk past the bookshelves and entered a long, wide hallway. On each side, there were doors evenly spaced along the right and left sides. Some of the doors had carved name plaques, and those were the first few in the hall, but the rest were left plain. He stopped in front of one that did not have a name, just a simple wooden door, and turned to face Morgana.

“This will be your room. You may do with it as you please, but some do tend to frown on setting anything on fire.” The Magister winked and opened the door for her. “You will begin lessons tomorrow, and someone will fetch you in the morning.” He gave Morgana a smile and set off back down the hall towards the stairs.

The door clicked shut behind Theostan, and she was left alone in her borrowed room. She sat down on the bed and took her bag off from her shoulder and set it down on the blankets next to her, thinking. It was hard to believe that she was at the mages guild and would actually be receiving official training. Sure, she could have stayed in Daggerfall and trained there, and they would have taken her in without question. Until it came time to address the other magic that is, and then they would most likely have kicked her out and reported her. It was good that she chose to leave, but she couldn't explain why she decided to go to Camlorn now that she thought about it. She rose and started putting her things away. Then there was the Magister, she knew that he could be trusted, something about him told her that he already knew what she was about before she told him.

As she unpacked her bag of meager possessions, she came across her mother's journals and held them in her hands. She would have to decide what to do with the information they contained, but today was not that day. One day, when she was ready, she would make her decision, but until then, Morgana had other, more pressing concerns. Concerns about the new magic she wielded and what power it held. Would she be able to control it? Would it cause as much harm as everyone feared? How long could she keep it a secret? What would people do once they found out? Questions swirled and spun around in her head, and her breathing quickened with rising panic. The journals dropped to the floor, and she wrapped her arms across her chest, squeezing her arms so tight for sure they were going to bruise. Sobs pushed forth and wracked her body as she lost her firm control, and she slid to the floor, her back resting against the bedpost. She cried in full force, the emotions of the past couple of days had broken free.

Her mother was gone. She was alone. 

She was a Necromancer.

________________________

Five years later… 2E 567

"No, no, no!" The mage screamed. He turned away from Morgana and stepped over to the nearest chair to sit down. His face was in his hands, and he would periodically rub his temples while he leaned back in the seat. While not looking up at her, "Try again."

Morgana stood facing away from where her teacher sat, and her face was scrunched up, and her lips pressed together. Her hand was outstretched, palm up, and occasionally she would close her hand into a fist then flick it open. Once and a while, she could feel something happening, magic tingling in her hand, but the only result was the occasional sparks, or a brief blueish light would emit. Certainly not the Magelight that her teacher wanted her to produce.

Her robes were singed in various places from other failed spell attempts, and there were even scorch marks on her teacher's garments. Books and documents had been scattered about, and some of the furniture was damaged or moved. Whatever spell he had her try always came out wrong. It felt like she was fighting the wind of a storm, struggling to move upstream, no matter how hard she focused. She has read all of the books that would be of any use, a few times over, and nothing was helping her improve these basic spells. They'd been working at them for a few months now, and there had not been any progress.

Suddenly, on one of the tables in front of her, potion bottles exploded like they were under pressure. Glass was sent flying outwards, the contents of the containers gushed out following the glass and covering the table, documents, books, and the floor in front of Morgana’s feet. She stood there in shock, slowly lowering her arm, and didn’t dare turn around to see the mage’s reaction.

"That is it! I don't know what the Magister was thinking." The chair he was sitting in scraped on the wooden floor and toppled with a crash as he stood. She could hear him stomping away from her, and he continued to vent loudly to anyone within earshot.

Morgana stood quietly in the same spot but no longer concentrating on producing the Magelight. She didn't know what the Magister would do this time, and she was confident that he would not be able to convince her teacher to work with her again. Her face scrunched after a moment, she planted her feet, and she held up her hand once more determined to get the spell right. The instructor wasn't needed for her to keep practicing, she didn't need him. Or that's what she told herself until…

Woooosh… 

The candelabra's flames shot upward and continued to rise until Morgana closed her hand again a split second later. She couldn't even get the same side effects twice in a row.

"By the Eight!" Groaning, she closed her eyes and knocked the remainder of a broken potion flask onto the floor. "Damned fucking bullshit!"

"Now, that's some interesting language to come from you." She turned around when she heard the voice and saw the Magister standing there watching. He could be silent as a shadow when he wanted to be and that sometimes unnerved her; she didn't care for surprises.

"Magister Theo, I did not know you were standing there." Her hands were immediately clasped behind her back as she stood straighter and met his gaze. "I was just practicing…"

“Oh, I heard about your practicing. Everyone here in the Mages Guild today heard, actually.” He smiled and took a few steps closer to sit at one of the chairs that had not been knocked over.

"I should be able to perform these basic spells by now, sir. I do not understand why, after five years, I can't, and why I haven't been encouraged to leave. I clearly can't do this, no matter what I might have done years ago."

Magister Theo gave her a stern look, “You will do great things with magic, and you need to have some patience.”

Morgana looked down at the floor, and her hands fidgeted with the end of her long red braid behind her back. Her anger and frustration deflating from the kind scold, "I apologize, sir, for making such a mess, and my language."

He waved his hand without a care for either. "I have some good news for you." The smile he wore then was cheerful though a bit mischievous. "A letter arrived from a mage that has agreed to work with you. Now that you are eighteen and a young lady, I feel certain that this will be in your best interest." He paused to make sure she was listening. "The woman lives outside of Crosswych, a bit of a hermit, but she has the same knack for the magic that you do. On occasion, the guild has requested her help, and so she remains on good terms. You can learn a lot from her, though she is a bit eccentric at times… Oh no matter, I've arranged for your portal transportation in two days' time."

“Thank you Magister,” She looked up in surprise at the news. The opportunity to go out into the world and learn magic that she could actually perform was exciting. Morgana smiled, a rare sight for anyone other than the Magister himself.

He stood from his chair, still smiling, “Leave some of the books here, if you would. We do have others that might want to read them eventually.” Magister Theo winked, patted her shoulder, and walked away casually.

Morgana cleaned up the mess that she had made after the Magister left, the mundane way. Her thoughts circled back to the years she spent in this guild. They had taught her history, geography, and basic mathematics, to name a few subjects, in addition to their attempts to hone her magic skills. The only skill she excelled at was translating runes for enchanting and had begun learning the process of glyph creation. She read many of the books that the shelves had to offer, and had a different freedom than those that visited the guild. Her stay there was unconventional, and thanks to Magister Theo, or Theostan, no one questioned it openly. Well, until her spells caused a commotion or damage. If not for the Magister's kindness, she would not have lasted under normal circumstances.

Once she was finished, she went up to her room and found an empty wooden trunk waiting for her, the lid opened. Inside sat three new books, two blank journals, new linen shirts, some new trousers, and a nice pair of tall, lace-up boots. A note lay on the top, and she knew who it was from without looking, but she opened it anyway. With a small smile, she tucked the note inside the front cover of one of the books. She would miss the Magister, and had no idea what would become of her after leaving the guild building and Camlorn. One thing she did know was that she would not find the same kindness anywhere else, or rather she would not find many other people like Magister Theo that would accept her once they knew what she was.

The two days passed by in a whirlwind as Morgana prepared to leave, and with the help of the Magister, her trunk was packed full. She made sure to only take a few books that would not be missed, and they were packed safely with the new ones gifted to her. While the trunk was full, her room now sat as empty as the first day. The bed was made, and everything was dusted or cleaned, and it was like she hadn't been there for five years. She knew they were waiting for her downstairs, but she took one last look at the room before shutting the door behind her.

Once down the hall and at the top of the stairs, she could see the Magister waiting near the large doors that lead to Camlorn. At his request, one of the other mages bounded up the stairs to take her trunk from her and carried it down. She followed, not looking directly at Magister Theo until she stood in front of him.

"I will open the portal for you, and once you're on the other side, keep walking straight, and you'll see her house just over the rise.” He leaned to whisper to her, "She wouldn't let me put the portal any closer."

Before she could respond, he stepped away and opened the portal. The other mage stepped through with her trunk, and came back a moment later without it and walked away from the two of them.

"Alright, child, in you go." He placed a hand on her shoulder, guiding her to the shimmering light of the portal. "Let me know how things go, and I'll be here if you need anything."  
Morgana looked away from the portal and back at the Magister, her confidence waning. "Thank you for everything."

“Don’t you say goodbye. We will see each other again, don’t you worry.” The Magister gave her a wink, and he quickly gave her a gentle shove with more strength behind it than she would have expected for his age. 

She was through the portal in a flash, and on the other side, she was in a small valley. Tall hills and mountains circled around in the distance. Her trunk sat on the grass beside her, and picking it up, she walked straight ahead. In the distance, she could see the gradual appearance of a small house or cabin, sitting along the treeline. As she got closer, a Dunmer woman appeared in the doorway.

“By the Eight…” Morgana was almost at a loss for words. This is going to be interesting.


	4. On the Job

2E 575 - 8 Years Later

Torchlight lit up the narrow hallway, but in the small space, the smoke was thick and invaded Morgana's nostrils. It was better than the musty, dank smell that was partnered with most underground structures. She could also smell the pungent aroma of those recently deceased, the metallic tang of blood. Two guards walked with her, one in front and one behind, and each carried the torches as they escorted her. Both of them had their faces covered with masks and protective goggles, these appeared to be built into their shell-like helms. The torches provided light, but they did nothing for warmth, and Morgana pulled her long cloak around her tighter and adjusted the hood. The light accenting the reddish tones in the guards' scaled armor, and it gave the illusion of a void between the two of them as the light passed by her black cloak.

"Not too much farther, Miss." The guard in front of her spoke up, his voice little more than a whisper, but it echoed slightly within the space. His hand that held the torch trembled somewhat, and she guessed that he was either cold, scared, or just nervous.

They walked for another ten minutes before there was light up ahead, and more voices echoing in their direction. As the neared the sources, the tunnel opened up into a space that reminded her of ancient catacombs, but was dug out of the earth rather than built with stone. Along the outer walls, there were arched recesses, some were empty, and some had decaying caskets or the remnants of the boxes and their contents. In the center were two stone slabs sat parallel to each other, and on one lay the source of the more recent odors, a young man wearing dark clothing and covered in blood. He was dead, of course; otherwise, there would be no reason for her services. His face had been covered by a stained burlap-type cloth bag, and it reminded her of the hood someone would wear at an execution.

The guard in front spoke up, “She’s here.” Then he stepped to the side to allow the people to see their visitor.

“You agree to my terms then?” Morgana asked the gathering, her voice amplified in the small chamber. She stood straight and looked directly at each person in turn, checking for any sign of disagreement.

She didn’t receive any verbal agreement, but one gentleman walked over to her and placed a hefty coin purse into her hands. He was significantly taller than she was and had sharp, angular features and ashen skin. She could only see his eyes and forehead above the fitted mask that covered the lower half of his face. Her guess would have been that he was Dunmer, but the rest of the group were not, that she could see with various hoods, cloaks, and armor hiding the majority of their features. Many of the outfits were similar to that of the guards or a variation of the Dunmer’s hooded leather armor, but two or three did not match the group at all wearing simple, dark clothes or armor. Without a word, the Dunmer man walked away to stand at the foot of the rock slab. The rest of the guests parted to let Morgana through after she pocketed the payment. The distance between the person and the deceased varied, and depended on how much fear and uncertainty was written on their face. 

Morgana took her place opposite the Dunmer. “I would suggest that anyone with a weak constitution, or that feel the least bit uncomfortable, leave.” Her voice had a cold and serious tone, and she saw one or two look unsure. She waited, but no one moved.

Fine then. Morgana slipped her hood off to fully reveal her face and eliminate the fabric from blocking her vision. Her red hair shone like fire in the torchlight, the curls collected and done up, with a dainty, charmed circlet centered on her forehead above her light emerald eyes. She saw some of the looks of shock and heard a few muffled gasps, and knew what it was that they expected. Everyone expected a creepy old hag that lived in a bog or stalked a cemetery, and that would scare children and adults alike with her looks and magic. She mentally rolled her eyes and turned to the task that she was hired for.

Focused on the dead body in front of her, she called forth her magic, both hands reached out on either side of the corpse. Undulating blue light slithered from her hands as she concentrated, and it flowed into and around the body. The corpse glowed with her magic, and as she raised her hands, it lifted into a sitting position. This alarmed the guards and a couple of others to reach for their weapons, and most of them made various startled sounds. Morgana ignored all of them and solidified her control over the corpse.

“You may ask your questions.” She stated, directing her direction to the Dunmer that had paid her.

The interrogation was nothing of interest to Morgana, and it wasn't her job to care, only to bring the victim back enough to obtain information. It was also safer for her to remain on the outside, especially with this organization. The Morag Tong were just as ruthless with their members as they were with those they had been hired to eliminate. They were, however, not stingy with paying for her services and always accepted the terms.

When it was done, Morgana laid the corpse back down and released her magic. The blue light faded from the body and her hands. Beads of sweat trickled down her brow, and her breathing was heavier from the exertion of holding her power over a length of time. She didn't know how long the interrogation went. Once the body was in place, she turned away without a word and walked back the way they had come. Out of sight of the people, she took out a simple white handkerchief and patted away the sweat and then pulled her hood up to block her face from view. Only one guard that had been standing back by the door turned to follow her back down the hall with his torch.

It felt like the walk back through the passage took longer, and the guard walking with her was silent, but so was she. She was tired and ready to be outside in the fresh air and away from the tunnels and their catacombs and secrets. The guard kept a steady pace and didn't appear to notice her urgency, and only once did he stop to pick up and light a new torch. They did eventually reach the stairs leading up to the trap door, and the guard passed her the torch to push the stone slab upwards. The cold, fresh night air rushed into the formerly closed space, and Morgana breathed deeply. Once the guard checked to make sure the way was clear, he took the torch back from her and held out his hand to help her up the narrow, steep stairs. She ignored the hand, reaching down to her, held her cloak out of the way, and gracefully walked up the stone steps and emerged just inside a small cave entrance.

The hour was late judging by the position of the moons in the night sky, and the stars glittered brightly above her head. She took another deep breath to clear her nose of the unpleasant smells from below. The chestnut mare she rode to the location was still tethered to the makeshift hitching post between the guards' horses, her head down sleepily. Morgana strode purposefully to the horse and blew a soft whistle, the horses' ears perked and all of them lifted their heads towards her. The mare nickered quietly in return. Other Morag Tong guards who were camped near enough to the cave entrance turned to see who had disturbed the silence, and upon seeing her cloaked figure, they relaxed their grips on their weapons and nodded.

Morgana said nothing, but nodded at them in return, she made sure that her hood stayed in place with one hand. Under normal circumstances, she would never allow anyone to see her face as she arrived or departed from an appointment, only those witnessing the magic were able to see what was hidden under the shadow of the hood. She tightened the cinch of the saddle and checked the saddlebags before untying the mare and mounting. The cloak billowed out around her as she mounted and straddled the horse. Without a backward glance, Morgana urged the horse onwards, and she rode out into the night.

She rode steadily through the rest of the early morning and could see the sun rising above the horizon ahead of her; its warm rays illuminated the buildings of Mournhold as it rose. As she reached the southwestern entrance, Morgana could hear the town awaken. Some doors were opening and closing, horses and other animals greeted the morning, and the chatter of people as they began their day reached her ears. The remainder of the night-time fog lifted by the time she reached the stable, and she dismounted the now tired mare.

“A place to stay and the care that she needs for a few days.” Morgana handed the young stable worker some coin and the reins before the lad had a chance to give her a good morning greeting. She removed the saddlebags herself and gave the mare a sugar cube before walking away from the bemused boy.

The inn sat across town from the stable and had a sign that said "The Flaming Nix" out front. It was still quiet when she reached the door, any patrons that stayed the night were presumed not awake yet. Various bulletins cluttered a section of an exterior wall; beware, bandits, item missing, a person missing, religious propaganda, and the like. She browsed the pages but saw nothing that would concern her or what she had been about. Shortly after she entered the establishment, Morgana had acquired a room and breakfast, that she would eat within her rented space. While she ate, sitting cross-legged on the bed, she laid out a book and flipped through the pages as she read.

Her concentration on the story was broken sometime later by a folded piece of parchment sliding under her door. The plate from her breakfast had been set on the bedside table, and Morgana had stretched out on her stomach, feet bent upwards behind her, and her hands supported her head above the book. When she looked up, she didn't see so much as a shadow pass by the door when the note had slipped under it, and she waited a few moments before pushing herself up and getting off of the bed. Her stocking feet made little sound when she crossed the floor and picked up the parchment. 

It was written in a nondescript hand in the universal language,

Balmora. Loredas. Canal across from the RN. Midnight.

Morgana read the note over a few times to memorize the information and took it over to the lamp burning on the table next to her bed. She opened the small glass door and reached the note inside to catch it afire. It lit easily, and she let it burn for a moment in her fingers before laying it down in the empty washbasin to completely burn. She watched the flames, deep in thought. It wasn't the first time a note appeared in her room, and she never questioned how it appeared or who brought it to her. This was part of her job, but she had hoped for more than a day's rest before she had to travel again. They were keeping her busy these last few weeks, and she was beginning to wonder why. The previous few appointments had sent her farther than she had ever traveled to date and away from her designated zone. Nothing had stood out to her during any of the last interrogations, all had been routine and straight forward. There hadn't been any other contracts, and she had been thankful for the increase in work from the Morag Tong to balance it out. The parchment had burned until all that remained was a fine ash in the bottom of the bowl, and with a quick puff of breath and an open window, it was gone. 

_____

It hadn’t stopped raining during the trip to Balmora, and still showed no sign of letting up. Morgana stood underneath the small overhanging upper edge of the canal wall, pressing her already wet form against the cold stone. Her black cloak was heavy from the rain, and the water dripped from the hood while she watched and waited for another figure to make its way down the access stairs and towards her. No one would be out this time of night, and thanks to the weather, there was little to no chance of getting caught. A crash of lightning in the distance lit up the canal and the streets above for a single moment, but Morgana was safe within the shadows. She longed for a warm fireplace, a cozy blanket, and a book on her lap.

After another lightning strike, a single cloaked figure was lit up at the base of the stairs. The sound of the rain echoing off the stone walls muffled and footsteps. In no time the person reached her, neither of them could see the opposite person’s face.

“Tomorrow night, take the road south out of town, continue until you arrive at the junction that will take you south to Vivec or east to Suran, take the eastern road. Someone will meet you behind the temple no later than midnight.” The voice was deep and carried easily to her ears through the rain. “They will give you the details of the job before taking you to the final location.”

“My terms and payment?”

“They will be agreed upon then.” The man, figure, turned having relayed the required information and briskly walked back the way he had come.

Morgana waited in the downpour, and began to shiver as she stood there. Enough time had to pass between the two of them leaving, regardless of the weather and the lessened chances of being discovered. Water had soaked through every layer of clothing she wore, and it had even finally worked its way through her boots. The river running through the canal churned and lashed against the stone walls, occasionally breaching the walkway she stood on. Bouncing and shivering, she waited a short time longer.

_____

Her room at the inn was warm, and the moment the door was closed, she took off her coak and sodden clothing, draping them over furniture to dry. She wrung her hair out over the empty bowl on the side table and took the cloth next to it to pat herself dry enough to climb into bed. Slipping in between the sheets, her naked body was soon enveloped in the warmth of the blankets. Morgana kept all but her head under the blankets until she finally stopped shivering, too on edge to try to sleep. While she waited, her mind repeated the instructions for tomorrow night, and the same questions from before popped up repeatedly. Once she was warm, she slid up to a sitting position and propped up a book on bent legs, and all of the thoughts and questions stopped while she was entranced by the story. 

Morgana had fallen asleep shortly after the first light of dawn, and the last of the rain subsided. The book was closed and tucked under her arm next to her on the bed. It wasn't until the noise coming from the rest of the inn around dinner time that she awoke. The clothing from the previous night was dry, even her cloak, and reluctantly she put them all back on for her trip that evening. She packed up her saddlebags and tucked the book away safely before leaving the room. Her last task at the inn was to obtain dinner and food for the road, her expenses already paid. Just before dusk, she was tacking up her horse, and set off on the southern road.

Travel time, while it seemed to make little sense when they had her bouncing illogically from town to town, it did give her time to think. She knew the reason that her trips didn't make a lot of sense, but when the expenses are paid for, you follow the directions provided and ask no questions. Before these recent contracts, Morgana would not have thought that she would be traveling on the eastern side of Tamriel. Or, more importantly, being contracted out by the Morag Tong was something she would not have imagined being a possibility. The appointments closer to and around High Rock were few and far between, and she didn't have an appropriate magical ability for the majority of the Mages Guild jobs.

She was brought out of her thoughts as the road turned, and the wind blew her red curls across her face. The breeze had a salty smell from the sea that surrounded the whole of Vvardenfell. Brushing her hair away, Morgana turned into the wind and opened her eyes. In the distance, she could see the setting sun reflecting off of the highest points of Vivec City and its palace. She halted her horse and watched the brilliant colors dance over the city and surrounding waters, much to the dismay of her mare who fidgeted impatiently. Only when dusk was upon them did Morgana turn and give her horse her head and finish the journey to Suran.

There wasn't a stable in the small town, but a few hitching posts near the caravan wagons. To be as inconspicuous as possible, Morgana tethered her mare to walk through to the temple. With her hood up and cloak fastened around her, she stepped into the deepest shadows of the night. She wound her way through the alleys and avoided the main street where a few people could be heard, awake and chatting. The sky was still partially covered with dark clouds blocking the moonlight, and she was grateful for the additional cover. No one had noticed her skulking around, though she always checked frequently, and made it to the back wall of the temple.

A person wearing a dark red cloak stepped closer, out of the deep shadows. Morgana could see the shoes under the hem of the cloak, which was too short, and recognized the red scale armor of the Morag Tong. The person wasn't much taller than herself, and out of the shadows, she could see that they had a slight build bulked only by the outlandish armor.

"Good, you're alive." Someone spoke from the shadows opposite her, the tone was a bit surprised.

Keeping her voice a whisper, “That’s what I prefer if I have any say about it.”

“Good, let’s hope you stay that way. We’d hate to have you go missing.”


	5. Strange Message

"I should hope not." Morgana's brows furrowed, "What do you mean, go missing? Is that why I was brought over here because your other contact on this side of Tamriel has gone missing?" Anger was slipping into her tone, and the ability to continue whispering was fading.

"Nothing was determined until just recently. We all have jobs to do, and they need to get done." The figure crossed their arms. "Last chance to back out, or we can discuss your terms."

Morgana stood straighter and crossed her arms; she was stubborn and would see her jobs through. The conversation was short and to the point, and included a brief argument about an additional hazard fee. If someone or multiple people of her profession have gone missing, then there was an increase of risk in completing the job. They settled on the deal that Morgana would not say a word about the fact she knew about the missing people, and she would be compensated for the "additional travel distance." There was no inn in Suran, but they had a camp set up just over the hill, only a short ride from the tomb where the job was taking place. The two of them would walk back separately to their horses at the hitching posts and meet at the campsite.

The camp had been well-positioned, and she would not have found it if not for the directions given to her. When she had entered the camp, cloaked, someone came over to take care of the horse and directed her to a large tent off to the side. It was spacious, the rough ground was covered with layers of rugs, and decent transportable furniture was set up for her. She was not to leave the tent for her own safety until the next night; someone would fetch her and have her horse ready.

She turned at the sound of a tent flap rustling and a soft thud. Her saddlebags had been placed just inside the tent, without someone being witness to her being there. The secrecy was for her protection and the protection of the Morag Tong, she understood this to be true, and yet it was a lonely situation. When she had walked over and picked up her things, she could hear whispers from the people outside, speculating about who she was. All of the guesses were incorrect, and most made her roll her eyes at the outlandish ideas. Morgana took her things and walked over to the cot, pulled out a book, and picked up where she had left off.

At times, Morgana found herself wishing when she gave herself time to think, but she didn’t know for what. She was used to and enjoyed the quiet time that she could spend reading. There was no reason to rely on someone else; she had what she needed and could take care of herself. The jobs that she had brought in good money, her expenses were generally paid for, she had her books, and she had the world to travel. She didn’t need anything or anyone else. This is what she would tell herself if she ever caught herself dreaming, and would generally distract herself with a book. Though tonight her mind was on something else, the fact that people with her same job, contracted necromancers, were missing. She didn't know their names or the circumstances that they went missing, or if there was more than one gone. It was only verified that the necromancer they contacted in this region had been taken from their small home in the wilds outside of Kragenmoor. Morgana decided as she sat there, the book untouched in her lap, that she would leave Morrowind after this contract had been fulfilled. If they wanted to keep her services, then she would be willing to in other territories. 

_____

Morgana eventually slept through most of the day, and then read from her books until night had fallen. Around mealtimes, a plate or bowl would appear like her saddlebags had, quietly and without someone seeing or speaking to her. Water had been brought in pitchers for drinking and washing up, bowls and cups had already been provided for in the tent. Only when it was completely dark, and firelight danced outside her tent did someone enter and bid her follow. She concealed herself within her cloak once again and followed. They rode their horses for a while further away from Suran, working their way closer to the Red Mountain. They kept no torches with them, and the landscape was lit by moonlight and an orange-red glow from lava pools.

They arrived and dismounted their horses, Morgana and other cloaked figures were assisted, and their horses led off to the side. Morag Tong guards circled protectively and set up watch posts. This was out of the ordinary, and gave Morgana a prickle of concern in the back of her mind. She didn't know what the reasoning was, but she kept a watchful eye on what went on around her just in case.

The group was escorted to an arched structure that sat tucked into the hill around it, and only a single door indicated an entrance and exit. One of the guards opened the door when they approached, and a single set of stairs leading downwards could be seen. Two guards took torches, lit them, and went down the steps first, lighting sconces as they went. A moment later, everyone was encouraged to enter, and a handful of guards remained up top to watch the door. The air in this place was not musty and damp, but rather warm and stuffy with a smell of ash. At the base of the stairs was an archway that led into the space. It was an interesting structure compared to what Morgana was used to. There was a main central area, and more archways led into alcoves, and the ceiling was curved to match each section. In the center, now surrounded by lit candles on the edge, was a large circular basin built on a circular dais in the center of the space. Inside the basin was a pile of ash and some bone fragments.

While everyone else filed in and circled the room, Morgana was directed up the dais to one of the gaps in the lit candles, and a coin purse was handed over to her. She slowly and gracefully stepped up to the edge and looked up across from her and then around briefly at the onlookers. Her hood was still up, but she could see that there were only three others wearing cloaks, and the rest were wearing the assorted Morag Tong armor. No one else moved to approach the dais, but one person did remove their hood to give her a nod, a Dunmer, of course. The heat trapped within her cloak was stifling, and she could feel herself sweating under it. Morgana removed her hood and undid the clasp near her throat, and let the cloak float to the ground behind her. She got more of a surprised reaction this time, revealing her whole form dressed in her practical, yet form-fitting, traveling shirt and trousers. Some of the guards that had previously been speculating to her being an ugly old hag now stood there with their jaws open and breeches bulging. To their credit, and on threat of death, they kept their mouths shut. To prevent herself from laughing, she focused on the pile of bones and ash in front of her, only allowing half a smirk.

She felt cooler without the cloak and more focused now that she was no longer being stifled by the heat. Standing with her arms outstretched, Morgana called silently to her magic, the ashes, and her hands began to glow their cerulean blue. The whole room took on an eerie blue hue and tinted even the darkest of shadows. This use of her magic was more difficult, and the soul that once belonged to this body had passed beyond the mortal realm. It would take longer to reach the person that hoped to speak to, and it was not guaranteed that she would be able to do so. Her brow furrowed in concentration, and her eyes closed.

When she was almost at the point of exhaustion, she could feel that the soul she was hunting was found. Opening her eyes, she could see the beginnings of a spectral form materializing above the ashes and bones. By then, most of the spectators had found places to sit and jumped up when the figure appeared. It took all of her energy and concentration to maintain the connection between the realm they were in, the specter, herself, and the realm beyond. The focus required for this task left little room to pay attention to anything else going on around her, even if she wanted to listen in on the conversation.

Time passed slowly for Morgana, and she wished for them to hurry up and finish their conversation, her strength waning. Finally, she received the nod and thanks she was waiting for, and she let the soul slip back to where it belonged. The final release of magic felt like a snap, and she felt herself stumble and step backward off of the dais. Someone caught her arm to steady her, and she took that moment to pick up her cloak and right herself. Ignoring the concern, she quickly pulled her arm away and tossed the cloak back around her, even though her body didn't need the additional warmth. Once it was fastened and the hood was up, Morgana strode briskly, as steadily as possible, from the chamber forcing the last bit of her will to keep her upright and moving. The sweat ran down the back of her neck, and from her forehead, her breath was ragged from the effort of climbing the stairs. She reached the door and, after knocking, was outside and greeted by the afternoon sun.

_____

Back at the camp, Morgana slept from the early evening after they all returned from the tomb, through until the next afternoon. She collapsed onto the cot the moment after entering the tent, not bothering to undress or change. Food and drink were laid out on a tray just inside her tent and refreshed every few hours, awaiting the time when she awoke. No one disturbed her, and it wasn't until the noise of the camp being broken down could be heard inside that she awoke. The rest had refreshed her only slightly, her body still felt weak, but after a test she could stand and walk about the tent.

She took the tray of nourishment over to the small table, and a single chair provided for her and sat down. A small pouch and a note sat next to the plate of food. The pouch contained more gold, as referenced by the letter, and the letter itself accepted her wish to be excused from contracts in Morrowind and a guaranteed short reprieve. All in gratitude for her excellent service. Morgana was thankful and turned to her food; she had been much hungrier than she initially thought. As she ate, she thought of the possibilities of what to do next. The clear choice was to leave Morrowind as soon as she was ready, and the destination would be Mournhold. After that, she wasn't as sure, and it might depend on if another opportunity arose.

While thinking of other opportunities and between bites of food, Morgana grabbed one of her bags and rifled through its contents. Mentally she took stock of what was left as she dug inside; glass containers would occasionally clink against each other. In her sorting, she would place a few pouches tied with different colored cords or vials containing unknown bits and pieces. The contents required restocking while she traveled to and around Mournhold, and anywhere else she went. She still had a small, yet decent stock, but the more rare items she was either out or only had one or two of. It had been a while since she had some time to collect, and she could supplement some of the missed income from this region. Morgana put the items carefully into the boxes or bags she took them out of and reorganized the saddlebag. She placed the bag down next to her other belongings and finished her breakfast, determined to leave sooner rather than later.

Morgana finished her meal, packed her things, and was riding away before the camp was completely broken down. She saddled up her horse before anyone else could do it for her and left without a word. It was early evening when she reached Suran again, and with only enough rest to refresh herself and water the horse, she rode onwards to Vivec. The city of Vivec was a short distance away, and she made it there in time to book the last passage across the straight to Stonefalls. She said goodbye to the horse with a few sugar cubes and returned it to the stables before departing. The trip to Davon's Watch was peaceful, and Morgana stood along the edge of the boat to watch the rising moon and stars.

A cold chill along her spine brought Morgana out of her thoughtful trance, the hair on her arms standing up, and her skin tingled with the same shiver. Looking around cautiously, she could see that they were almost to shore, and the crew was readying the vessel to dock. She didn't see anything amiss in the hustle and bustle, but the sensation was still there. The world around her slowed, and the people no longer rushed about, slowed to almost a standstill. Her heart raced in uncertainty, and she looked around the ship again, something was making her uneasy. Morgana stood, her movement normal, and took a few steps away from the railing. When she walked further towards the center of the ship, she could see around some of the crew, and all appeared to be normal, minus the slowed time.

She walked around the deck, keeping her breathing as steady as possible, and when she stepped onto the upper deck, her breath caught in her throat, and her heart skipped a beat. Standing near the railing looking back at Morgana was a soul, or ghost, a transparent, elderly woman who stood there hunched with age. The clothing that she wore were plain robes, but they might have been Nord in style, she wasn't sure. Her mouth was set in a frown and eyes full of concern, her gaze boring into Morgana. The two women looked at each other, neither saying anything for a long while.

The specter rushed forward, a shrill shriek sounded from the gaping mouth, and stopped with her ghostly face directly in front of Morgana's. It spoke through labored breaths, "Beware the light that hides in the dark."

"What do you mean?" Morgana found her voice, and the ghost floated backward away from her face.

"Beware the light that hides in the dark. It hides in plain sight, waiting for you to turn." The woman paused for a moment. "In the shadows, it will lurk. Beware for it wishes your soul to burn."

Morgana stood, brows furrowed, and she frowned. "Who are you?"

The ghostly woman backed away as if it didn't hear the question, but the image of her and around them changed. Around Morgana, the world changed as the vision played out around her. The old woman was strapped to a spectral table, and her head rolled from side to side with a pained scream. Her abdomen was sliced and spread open from her sternum down to her pelvic bone, hooks attached to the table held the flesh open. Hooded figures floated in and out of the scene, and one was placing items inside the woman as she screamed. Another figure came into view with a leather harness, and with the help of another holding her head still, strapped her into it, rendering her completely immobilized. This person, after attaching the harness, took a small knife from a nearby table and sliced through the skin of the woman's temple. Her screams were muffled only by the gag that was part of her restraints.

Morgana's heart raced, and she couldn't tear her eyes away from the scene, and the rest of the world knew nothing of what was happening. Her feet started to move backward, panic rising within her and the urge to flee tingling at the back of her mind. After a few steps, she bumped into something and turned around quickly, jumping. She had backed into one of the suspended crew members, and in that instant time surged into motion, and she fell onto the hardwood of the deck. Morgana looked around quickly to see the ghost had disappeared.

"I'm so sorry, Miss, I didn't see you there." The crewman reached down and picked her up, and in her shock, she accepted the help.

She looked around again, and everything was back to normal. "Are we ready to disembark?"

“We will be in a few minutes.”

Morgana nodded in thanks, her stomach rolling as the memory played over in her head. She walked over and down the steps to the main deck, holding the railing to steady herself. Never before has a soul come to her without a summons, and never has she asked for one to speak with her. It was unnerving, and to have the soul, she guessed, show her its last moments was something she had yet to hear of or experience. She could almost feel the sensation that her scalp had been sliced like the ghost's had been. Walking to the side of the ship, she looked over the side at the water and the stars reflected on its surface. The urge to throw up had passed, but the cool breeze was refreshing.

It took less time than expected to secure the ship, and Morgana was the first one in line to get off. It was too late to arrange for a ride or a horse out of Davon’s Watch, so she rented a room for the night and made arrangements with the innkeeper to send someone at the earliest time possible to get her passage and wake her once everything was settled. She slept fitfully for the rest of the night, dreams of the vision plagued her.

After a few hours, Morgana was awake and riding off towards Mournhold. The soul was behind her, or so she hoped.


	6. Chance Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to TheCuriousNumber5 for her characters Grenna and Selaer and working with me on this chapter!

The ride to Mournhold took the majority of the day, and was uneventful with only a few stops along the way to replenish her ingredient stashes. It had been a while since she traveled during the day, and she understood why many deemed it the safer option. With her current employment and her various skills, it was better to be hidden away in the shadows.

Morgana rented a room at the Flaming Nix, and then set off to find the local Outlaws Refuge again. She had discovered its whereabouts after making inquiries a while back when she first passed through this city. Unlike most in Tamriel, it had a darker layer underneath that was less well known; someone had to be into shady business to know that it was there or know the right people.

She entered the Outlaws Refuge and went to a dark passage that opened on the far side, made a left, went down the stairs, and took the next two rights. At the door stood an ominous-looking Dunmer, once she lowered her hood, he recognized her, nodded, and swung open the door. Morgana nodded in return before walking through.

The smell in this lower area was always atrocious, even in comparison to some of the things she dealt with on a routine basis. On the walls closest to the door, there were merchant stalls and vendors as intimidating as the Dunmer at the door. The opposite walls had furniture strewn about, and behind a stack of crates was a hidden door within the stone wall. Portable room dividers had been placed among the furniture and were set to block off onlookers shopping at the merchant's stalls.

Morgana walked over to one of the vendors she was already acquainted with, a gnarled, graying Khajiit, with one eye clouded over in blindness.

“You’re back I see, what do you have this time for Dar’iq?” His voice was scratchy and unpleasant, but had a hint of pleasure at seeing Morgana.

“I have a few things to sell.” She pulled out a few containers and bundles and sat them down on the counter nearest to her.

With his eye lighting up, he tried to look nonchalant. “You ask too much of Dar’iq, these are not worth your price.” He took out his inventory ledger while they talked.

She could see another woman coming closer to the stall and pulled her hood back over her head, not recognizing the person. She was around Morgana’s height though more pleasantly curvaceous than she was, and her dark hair suited her. The woman was clearly a fellow Breton, and Morgana sensed a little bit of distant familiarity, but couldn’t place it.

The Khajiit was momentarily distracted by the new arrival, “New customer.”

The woman responded confidently, “You sound disappointed. I’d be happy to take my gold elsewhere.”

Dar’iq being anything but pleasant, “Select, and then go.” He turned away from the woman, going back to scribbling in his ledger.

The woman grumbled, “Wonderful customer service.” Then she sighed and turned to look at the rack of ingredients and accidentally bumped into Morgana. “OH! Apologies...so sorry. It’s a wonder I’m allowed in public at all.”

"No harm done," Morgana replied politely and stepped closer to the vendor. “We agreed on the price of five-thousand gold for these, and I will not be shafted. If you don’t want to lose your stock, I suggest you pay, and now," Her tone bordered on cold.

Glaring at Morgana, the Khajiit brought up a coffer and slammed it onto the counter, fished out a pouch, and counted up the owed amount. She watched him carefully, and she stood with her arms loosely crossed in front of her.

“There, as agreed.” Dar'iq dropped the coin purse into her awaiting hand, and went back to work without another word to her, grumbling. The coffer was removed from the countertop and stored away.

Morgana turned away from the vendor and pocketed the gold. The woman that had bumped into her was still there, and she noticed the collection of items she was studying. From what she could see, the woman knew what she was looking at.

“You don’t want those if you need to make something decent or potent, they have been sitting on that shelf for months.” Her voice was lowered so the vendor would not hear.

She could see the woman visibly wrinkle her nose. “I thought it smelled off in here...in an unexpected sort of way. I mean...I wasn’t expecting _roses_.” She tried to hide the grimace from the Khajiit at the available stock, disappointed in the quality of the stock. “Do you have any suggestions as to where I might find better...erm...wares?”

Morgana raised her eyebrow **,** "Let's find a better place to talk, away from eavesdroppers." She gave a quick nod towards the opposite end of the room, where the various small tables and chairs were scattered carelessly about.

It was still early, and the regulars were not there yet, and only one other person was browsing two stalls down that sold cursed and daedric items. No one was currently using any of the seating. Not looking over her shoulder, she picked up a small satchel from the floor by her feet and walked over to a table with four chairs tucked behind a couple dividers. She took the seat that was completely hidden from the rest of the room and held the bag on her lap. She was followed by the dark-haired woman out of earshot of other customers and vendors, who then sat opposite her at the rickety, unwashed table.

“To be perfectly honest, I thought you’d say no.” The woman kept her voice down but gave a small laugh. “Alas, supplies of a more...questionable nature are quite difficult to fi--…” She stopped at the sudden ruckus outside the door.

Something slammed against the door with a sharp, pained exclamation and the distinct sound of something person-sized making abrupt contact with the ground.

“Oh, damn it.” The woman sighed and rolled her eyes.

Morgana raised an eyebrow again, and remained calm. "I'm guessing you know what that is all about?" She was not able to see what was going on the opposite side of the room, but she could hear distant, indiscernible mumblings from the shop vendors and the commotion at the door. “Do you need to attend to that?”

The woman across from her sighed, "Yes, I forgot to mention to someone that I was coming down here." She leaned back in her chair a little and murmured, so even Morgana strained to hear her: "Not for the first time."

The door banged open, and in came an unusually tall Argonian, clad in leather from head to toe, hood pulled up, not looking _especially_ pleased. Everyone whose interest had been piqued by the disturbance, pointedly returned to looking very interested in anything _but_ the Argonian. He spotted where the dark-haired woman was sitting, his demeanor changing from ready-to-continue-a-violent-rampage to calm once more. He straightened his jacket a little, stepping up to her and then noticed that she wasn't alone.

She spoke quietly to the Argonian, whom she clearly knew, “Did you _kill_ the doorman?” Morgana sat quietly and watched the exchange.

The Argonian said nothing, but his tail twitched ever so slightly, yellow eyes narrowing, flicking from the woman, to Morgana, and back again.

“Well, good. I _am_ in the midst of something, though.” The woman spoke up after the silent inquiry.

“I’ll be outside. As there doesn’t _appear_ to be another exit from this chamber, I trust your departure won't escape my notice. Again." The Argonian turned and strode away without another word, and Morgana watched the other woman as she fidgeted a little in her seat.

"Sorry...a bit of a worrier, that one. He didn't kill the doorman, if you're wondering. I'm just a scatterbrained danger to myself, apparently." The woman rolled her eyes after her acquaintance left but smiled. "Anyway, where were we?"

"He cares for you, quite a lot I would imagine for him to be that concerned." Morgana watched the Argonian walk away until he passed behind the barrier, "It's interesting for a Shadowscale."

Morgana added with a small smirk, “There is a secret passage for emergencies, but we shouldn’t tell him that.” 

The woman looked thoughtful, but mischievous, “I have half a mind to use it just to see him squirm…”

Morgana’s smirk gone, she turned her focus back to the original topic, opened her bag, and began to pull out a few containers, bundles, and expertly sealed jars, laying them out on the table. “I always keep a stock on hand, and tend to sell a few things to vendors like the _friendly_ Khajiit over there.” 

The woman's eyes widened, and she leaned forward to look at the items on the table. "May I?" Morgana nodded, gesturing with one hand towards the ingredients.

Morgana watched as she picked up a jar, examining its contents closely, then another, then a bundle of herbs which she inhaled the scent of, and then smiled.

“These are _wonderful_. I wasn’t sure I was ever going to be able to come across more Blood Root. What I _did_ have was musty and old, not nearly potent enough…" She picked up a jar, obviously containing bone fragments. "Rib? Human or Mer?"

“That one is Man, but…” Morgana replied and reached back into the bag and pulled out two more jars. “I have Mer,” Placed one jar down on the table _._ "Altmer, if I recall." She put down the other jar, "This one is Argonian." Then she sat back and observed the other woman carefully. "Just don't ask how I obtained any of this."

“Well, I’m certainly not one to judge the methods of reagent acquisition. I’ve partnered myself with a Shadowscale, after all. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t used that fact to do a little questionable acquiring of my own. Though, not as much as I’d have liked.” The woman picked out four jars out of the bunch, and three bundles of Blood Root. “I lost my entire stock in a flood, because, well...it’s the Black Marsh. If the carnivorous plants don’t get you, the wildlife or a flood certainly will!” She chuckled a little. “But, if you ever need to go someplace no one will find you, I highly recommend it.”

"I figured you would understand." Against her better judgment, she was beginning to like this woman. The fact that she was intimately acquainted with a Shadowscale worked in her favor. "As it turns out, I was making my way deeper into Black Marsh to make some connections, and obtain more ingredients, if possible." She paused and held out her hand, "I know a bit about the Tamriel underworld myself. My name is Morgana."

"Oh! Lovely. It's very nice to meet you, I am Grenna, and the violent Argonian is Selaer." She shook Morgana's hand, enthusiastically. "We live in Stormhold if you pass through and need anything. The best way to get in touch would be to ask for Ahdra at the Coin Brothers tavern...if anyone else sees a Breton looking for me, you're going to be met with nothing but denials of my existence!"

Grenna smiled at Morgana again, pleased to have met someone nice for once outside of Stormhold. “Those of us with things we prefer others not to know ought to stick together, I’d say. Oh! But if you’re looking for poisons, there is no place better than the Marsh.” 

She couldn’t help but give a small smile in return, Grenna’s genuine pleasantness was a bit contagious. “I don’t have much need for poisons, but thank you for the advice.”

She rummaged in her satchel then. “What do I owe you?” Coins jingled quietly as she took hold of them.

Morgana made some calculations in her head, "I'll make you a deal, one-thousand gold, and a promise to arrange a conversation with Selaer." After a thought, "It doesn't have to be today, I could meet you in Stormhold sometime soon."

The thought of a possible friend was tantalizing, and one that wouldn’t pry into her business would be… wonderful. She could feel the war between her head and her heart over the idea of having someone to talk to. Her features remained calm and polite.

“Done...though, is there anything you can tell me about what it’s regarding? He’s more likely to agree if he knows at least a bit about what to expect.” Grenna retrieved the payment amount from her bag. “Though...don’t be surprised if he’s as responsive as a fence post. He’s not especially verbose...particularly with strangers.”

“It would be regarding… job contracts with the Shadowscales.” She didn’t dare say anything more than that. Any additional information would lead to more questions, it always did, and that isn’t something she willingly talked about.

“It’s my understanding that they keep most things internal, but Selaer will know more about it than I would. I will, of course, ask him. I’ll be sure to insist, since you were so generous with your pricing.” Grenna grinned.

Morgana began to put the rest of the items away in her bag. “When do you expect you’ll be back in Stormhold?”

“We’ll be heading back before the end of the day. Selaer doesn’t care very much for the Dunmer...for obvious reasons. So, we’ll probably end up camping somewhere overnight rather than waiting until morning. Though, I can’t say I blame him, really.” Grenna replied with a shrug.

Morgana nodded, "Of course, I understand." She made a mental note to avoid mentioning some of her job history with the Morag Tong. "I have one more thing to take care of this evening, and depending on how long that takes, I might leave tonight or in the morning. I could meet you at the Coin Brothers in the next day or two. If that is acceptable, of course." The uncertainty of the possibility of additional contracts, and maybe a friend, was making her heart pound.

"Yes, of course. That would be fine; I'll just let Ahdra know that if you come looking for me that it's alright. Otherwise, she might not take very kindly to a Breton poking around and asking questions. Lucky for me, most _allegedly_ civilized people are _far_ too skittish to venture so far south.” She shuffled the contents of her bag around a bit, making room for the new additions, then glanced in the direction of the door at the sound of unhappy murmurs.

"I suppose I'd best get going before another fight breaks out. It was lovely to meet you, though!" Grenna shook Morgana's hand again, looking forward to perhaps having the opportunity to soon sit down and talk more with Morgana. Ideally, someplace less riddled with vermin and the stench of poorly preserved anatomical bits and pieces.

Morgana was slightly startled by the frequent hand-shaking _._ “Same. I will see you soon.” Closing up her bag and smirking, “I’ll wait a few minutes before leaving behind you, we don’t need your Shadowscale any more paranoid. I have a few more things to sell anyways.”

“Ah, good thinking. I hope you have better luck with your other vendors than with _that_ one.” Grenna nodded vaguely in the direction of the Khajiit and his poor attitude before turning and heading out the door.

While Grenna was leaving, Morgana took her bag and left the table where they'd been sitting and went over to one of the other vendors. A bunch of random-looking items lay strewn about and hanging from ropes above the stall. The stall vendor was a Dunmer who looked incredibly bored, waiting for the usual crowd.

Not bothering to look directly at Morgana, “Come to buy something or just waste my time?”

Morgana raised an eyebrow and frowned. _This place is filled with “pleasant” people today._ “Neither.” She placed some strange items on the counter, just out of his reach. “I’m here to sell you some things that actually work.”

The vendor turned and looked at the items, and her, in surprise, “Are those…?”

"Yes, they are." Thankfully there was one skill that she learned from the Mages Guild and was quite good at it, enchanting. Pair that with her unique magic, and the result was equally unique talismans and charms. "Quite effective against the undead. I'll sell them to you and require no acknowledgment except payment, two-thousand each. You can keep any extra profits."

They were bickering back and forth for a time, and Morgana came away with her asking price. Judging by the increasing activity around her, she had waited long enough for Grenna to leave. Securing her satchel and her money, she left the chamber.

Outside, Morgana made her way back to the inn, and after a brief stop in her room with a quill and parchment, she was outside again. She worked her way across the plaza and to the Mages Guild on the other side of the town. Inside she followed the stairs up to the top-most tower to the open-air room where the mages kept their ravens.

Conveniently the use of ravens by the mages guilds in Tamriel made it easy enough to send messages to other places or organizations; no one would suspect that they were delivering anything but guild correspondence. These ravens were especially useful and bred for the dual purpose of being able to verbally deliver a message instead of a written one if ever necessary, and for confidential information, it was essential.

At the top of the tower, Morgana walked quietly over to a raven that watched her with interest. The bird sat tall and proud on his perch; his head tilted slightly to watch her come closer with one eye.

"Evening, pretty Death-fire," He squawked.

“Evening Stormwing,” Morgana nodded her head in respect. “I have another letter, if you would be kind enough to carry it for me.” She held out the folded parchment, no name or address on the front.

“Who does the pretty Death-fire want this delivered to?”

She held out the letter, “To Miareth Redndil, please.”

Stormwing took the parchment in one claw and unfolded his wings, flapping them a few times. He nodded, Morgana nodded back, and he lifted off the perch and took off into the setting sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read Grenna's story: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22496911/chapters/53756503


	7. Out of the Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another wonderful chapter with the help of TheCuriousNumber5 and her wonderful characters!

With the letter on its way, and business was taken care of in the Outlaws Refuge, Morgana had some extra time to spend at the stables before leaving. She went to the stablemaster to inquire about renting a horse for the trip to Stormhold. It was run by a friendly Dunmer who spoke to her the moment she came near enough to the stables. 

"Welcome, friend. You won't find a better stable in all of Morrowind!"

“Thank you, I’m looking for a horse to take me to Stormhold.” Morgana stepped closer to the open-air stalls to see what horses might be up for selection.

The Dunmer walked beside her. “I have three that are available,” He gestured to each stall in turn, “There’s the chestnut, Emanon, he’s an older fellow but the steadiest of the bunch. Now, Mirage, that pretty paint there, she’s the sweetest. Then there’s Drogon, the black one at the end, he’s a firecracker and the fastest horse around.”

The smell of the stable was a comfort, the hay, sweet grain, and the unique scent of horseflesh, they don't judge you based on your appearance or magic, but by your heart. Morgana walked up to the first horse, Emanon, he was slowly munching on some hay and didn't seem to notice that she walked up to see him. She made a few sound cues and saw his ears flick towards her, but that was the only movement. _Boring but safe..._ Next, she went over to see the mare, who greeted her with a soft whiney and brought her head closer, ears up and forward in curiosity. Morgana reached into her pocket to get a sugar cube, but when she pulled her hand out too quickly, her arm fluttered her cloak, and the sweet mare shied her head away. _Easily spooked…_ She still gave the mare the treat when she brought her head back, but Morgana walked to the final horse.

Drogon was nickering at her when she stepped away from the mare, his stall was two down from the others, and his head was stretched out towards her. He was a handsome horse, and he stood confident, but his eyes were soft and intelligent. She reached the stall, and the horse gave her a gentle bump with his nose on her shoulder. Morgana softly petted the horse's head, and he brought his nose up to her face to sniff her. _Curious, affectionate…_ She looked over his confirmation and noticed that he wasn’t solid black, but he had what looked like cream-colored stripes on his legs, shoulders, and thighs that looked like the ones found on striped senches. _Unique coat..._

The stablemaster was at the other side of the stable and dropped something suddenly with a bang! Drogon lifted his head from Morgana’s hands to look in the direction where the noise came from, his ears moving about, and his posture tensed in anticipation. _Alert, but not prone to spook…_ She looked at the other horses and saw the Emanon didn't move, and Mirage startled away from the stall door, pacing nervously in her stall.

“Apologies!” The Dunmer hurried himself over to Mirage to calm her down. “Easy girl…”

Morgana turned back to Drogon, who, having discovered nothing of danger, turned back and nuzzled the pocket with the sugar cubes. She was pleased with his alert, but not frightened response. With how the last couple of days went, she would prefer a mount like Drogon. “What do you think? You want to go out for a run?” His answer was another soft bump with his nose.

The Dunmer walked over to the two of them, “Well, well, it looks like Drogon here has taken a shine to you.”

“He’ll do, I’ll ride him to Stormhold.” She kept her gaze on the horse, hiding her excitement with a business-like demeanor. Each horse she ever rode was unique and suited to her in some way, they brought her joy during the brief periods she would get to ride them.

The stablemaster looked at her openly curious, “Sure, I’ll get him tacked up.” While he worked, he kept watching Morgana and Drogon interact; he could see a connection there that only another experienced horse-handler would recognize. 

Once he finished, the stablemaster opened the stall door and led the horse out. "If you decide to make a purchase, just send along the gold, and I'll be happy to know he has someone to appreciate him." Morgana handed him the rental fee, and he walked away without another word.

After finishing at the stable, Morgana led the gelding out into the open air, loaded up her bags, and mounted. Turning the horse and setting off at a walk, she left the city. The night was cool but cloudy, and she frowned in disappointment when she couldn't see the stars. It wasn't going to matter long anyway once she was farther down the road. The gelding pranced, wanting to run, but she kept him in check until they were far enough from town, and the road was clear.

The town was blocked from view by the growing density of the foliage, and no one else was on the road. "Ok, boy, let's go!" She urged Drogon onwards into the night, and he willingly surged forward into a gallop. The wind whipped back her hood as they ran, but she didn't care any longer; there was no one to see. The excitement of the ride and the feel of the strong horse beneath her brought a smile to Morgana’s face. 

The night grew darker, and the wilderness around her thickened the farther they rode away from town. Together they galloped away from Deshaan and crossed over the border into Shadowfen. Eventually, the road narrowed, and she slowed the horse to a jog when it became harder to see to avoid any unexpected hazards in the dark. The sounds of the wilderness around them had grown eerily quiet the farther they went on. Suddenly, Drogon snorted, stopped in his tracks, stomped his feet, and a shiver of fear or excitement rippled through him. _Something is out there._ Trusting her horse, Morgana waited, watched, and listened.

She leaned close to the horse's neck, "What is it, boy? Hmm?" Morgana glanced around her but could only see the darkness and the light of a lamp-post eighty or so yards behind her. Urging the horse slowly forward, they continued walking along the road.

Further down the road, again, the horse stopped, shook his head, and snorted a few times. As she listened, there came a faint rustling, and not knowing the area, she didn't know if she was smelling the swamp decay or something else on the wind. Turning around, the gelding tensed underneath her, she looked through the darkness. There, in the dark, just a short distance off the road ahead of her, a ball of light arced through the air. What it revealed almost sent the horse into a panic: undead converging towards where the light came from.

_Shit, someone’s over there!_ Kicking the horse, they sped off towards the source of the light, he went willingly sensing her urgency. Giving him his head, they ran and jumped through the undergrowth until they were opposite the horde and the residual light. She swung herself off the horse before he came to a stop, and he turned upon seeing the zombies and went a few yards away. Her focus was on the undead, moving closer to her distracted by the commotion she caused riding in, she hoped the horse wouldn't run too far. The familiar blue glow emanated from her hands, the wind picked up around her, and the magic slithered and danced like fire growing. Soon her entire form was glowing with the undulating magic, and then it began to grow and move through the earth towards the zombies. The magic rose out of the ground and worked its way into the corpses halting their movements.

When the zombies immediately near her were restrained, Morgana looked over her shoulder quickly where the light had come from. Just at the edge of the fading light was the woman she met at the Outlaws Refuge, Grenna, and only a few yards away from her, she saw Selaer’s head turn briefly toward her at a flash of the undulating blue of her magic. _Thank the Eight he can’t see my face._ The immobilized undead groaned, their arms still flailing, reaching for their living victims. She could see that Grenna was forced to move and dodge away from the gripping dead hands, her spells going off erratically. Many of the lumbering undead were burning, but it didn't seem to deter those who still moved freely.

An angry, pained snarl came from the Argonian. One of the monsters drove its rusty blade into him before Morgana could catch it in her snare. It drew back, pulling it out of him again, and Grenna let out a furious cry.

“NO! _Selaer!_ ”

Sweat dripped from Morgana's brow, she willed the zombies under her control to attack and kill each other. The scream brought her attention around, and on instinct, her powers reached for the few remaining zombies and made them turn on each other. Her breathing was labored as she maintained her control over all of them. She saw the knife covered in the Argonian’s blood and forced the corpse to plunge it into the forehead of the zombie near it.

Screaming, she commanded, “Burn them! I have them... Burn them NOW!”

Grenna heard her shout and saw that the zombies had stopped walking, and so unleashed a violent burst of fire. The flash was nearly blinding, but it served its purpose and brought the attack at last to an end. The reek of burning flesh filled the air, and the sound of corpses screeching as they met their final demise.

Silence finally fell except for the crackling flames of a few bodies, and Grenna ran to Selaer as he dropped to his knees, wincing as he shrugged out of his coat. She pulled his shirt out of the way, putting her hands over the freely bleeding wound. He groaned as the golden light flashed brightly.

Grenna was visibly breathing hard. “This is not how I saw the night going.”

Selaer was as suspicious as ever. “Who is out there? Who stopped them?” He winced again.

“I...I don’t know. I just want to get home without anyone else being _punctured_.” Grenna inhaled and exhaled deeply, and Morgana could hear the sound of agitated crows. 

The magic receding then dissipating with that familiar snap, Morgana struggled to stay upright and walk into the remaining light from the burning bodies. Hearing the conversation and keeping her posture as straight as possible, she used the trees to help keep her steady. She knew that she needed to move out of the shadows and reveal herself, or she might know the feeling of cold metal at the hands of the Argonian. Afterward, she would leave for her safety and theirs, she would disappear again.

She spoke with confidence, “I did.” She pushed her hood back with one hand and walked forward out of the darkness.

Hearing her speak, Drogon lifted his head and slowly made his way back to her. He made a point to stomp heavily on one of the corpses that wasn’t burning that was in his path, no longer concerned about the undead. While he walked closer to the small camp, Drogon was distracted and curious about what was in the bags that belonged to Selaer and Grenna. He found a crow sitting atop one of them and sniffed it thoroughly. Mentally this made Morgana smile. _I might have to buy him..._

Grenna lit the area less violently than before, and her eyes widened to see that it was Morgana who was responsible for stopping the undead.

“Well...your aid is certainly welcome.” Grenna smiled.

“She stopped the dead, did she start them, too?” Selaer questioned with suspicion.

“ _No._ I’m no mage, but whatever _started_ them was distinctly different.” Grenna was quick to deny the accusation.

“Apologies.” The Argonian muttered, giving a small nod in Morgana’s direction.

“No one is especially delightful after taking a blade in the back.” Grenna let out a long breath. “Really, though, Morgana, thank you.” 

Morgana tried not to lean heavily on the tree next to her. She nodded, though startled at Grenna coming to her defense, accepting the apology, "I'm glad I was able to help." She felt her legs begin to shake. "If it's not too much trouble, can I sit with you for a bit before continuing? Maybe we should light a fire?" She didn't move any closer, not wanting to intrude or press her luck, but her head began to spin.

“Yes, of course...do you need water? Healing?” Grenna replied.

Morgana took a deep breath and walked closer to their little camp. "No, thank you, just some time to sit will be fine." _Sit for a minute, and then leave. There’s no immediate threat._

"You noticed, I'm sure that I stoppered-up this one here." Grenna pointed to Selaer with her thumb. “Not for the first time.” Selaer sat on the ground and pushed his hood back, running his hand over his crest, eyes trained between the woods and their rescuer, still seeming uncertain.

"You did a wonderful job from what I can see." Morgana attempted to keep a steady walk while avoiding roots and underbrush. Her vision blurred, and she closed her eyes, willing her body to stay upright, and took another deep breath. She had never used so much of her magic all at once, and never tried to control a horde of undead at the same time. Hoping she could make it a few more steps, she walked forward, but was hit with another wave of dizziness. Her legs gave out, her vision went black, and she fell.

Morgana heard voices after a while, and a strange accented one right next to her. She had fainted, but something soft was under her head, and she was laid out comfortably. Warm breath blew on her hair, she knew it must be Drogon, and his soft nose nuzzled her ear.

“Wakie, wakie, necromancy friend of my Lady.” A strange ragged voice said from uncomfortably close by.

Blinking, she noticed that it was still night, that she felt quite a bit better, and an odd weight was pressing down on her chest. She blinked and tilted her head to see what it was. 

She saw, to her surprise, a crow looking down at her curiously, “Umm… Hello.” Gestured with one hand in a shooing motion, “Could you please not stand on my chest?”

“Ah, she wakes!” The crow cawed loudly.

“Get _off_ of her, you bloody menace!” Grenna scolded, and the crow hopped away. Grenna held her hand out to Morgana to help her up. "You weren't out more than a quarter-hour at most. How are you feeling?"

Morgana took Grenna’s hand, “Better, much better actually,” and stood up _._ “You must have used your healing magic, thank you. It is greatly appreciated, truly.” She tried to hide her discomfort over the idea that she had broken her own rules, whether intentionally or not.

With the stark shadows cast by the magical light and the darkness around them, Morgana could see a long scar that ran down the other woman's face from cheek to chin. The scar did not ruin the woman's beauty, but for some, that would be all that they would see and would disagree with her. Morgana knew all too well that the surface could hide what was inside, and counted on those perceptions to hide in the open. She dropped Grenna’s hand, and turned around to take a few steps towards her horse, who had begun to graze, avoiding the gazes she expected to see. Morgana checked over her packs, checked for damages of the contents, and checked over the tack.

The gelding nuzzled her arm, and his ears perked up. "I should go." She patted the horse on the side of his neck, distractedly. "It might be in everyone's interest if I do. Component sales can still be arranged, I give you my word."

“In everyone’s interest? What do you mean?” There was a bemused look on Grenna’s face.

Morgana tried not to look directly at her, "You saw some of what I can do, and that's something I would have preferred to keep a secret. Only those that have… hired my services know my face." She gave the horse a couple sugar cubes before continuing, "Necromancy is not something that people warm up to, and no one wants a necromancer for a friend." Thankful for keeping her back to the two of them, she made a face realizing what she had said.

Grenna stared for a short moment and blinked, as though such a thing was utterly preposterous. “My friends are a flock of nosey, self-important _daedric_ crows.” She then pointed to Selaer. “ _His_ job is to murder people by contract. He’s illegal all over Tamriel, too. On the side, I rummage through dead bodies for spare parts for my...alchemical...services. I don't think between him and me, we're in any sort of position to be judging anyone." She shrugged. "Besides, you didn't attack us, that's good enough for me."

Selaer came forward, though, much less menacing than before, though still on guard. “If you still wish to have that discussion, I am willing. Preferably somewhere else, since we don’t know what else might be out here.”

Morgana turned finally to look at Selaer after steeling herself, “I would be grateful. We can meet somewhere else, further from your home, if that would be more comfortable.” She hid her bemusement well. _Wait, we’re still having a conversation? They aren’t afraid of or disgusted by me? I should still leave… It would be better..._

“The Coin Brothers will do. There is also the matter of being attacked by risen dead. Such things affect more than just us.” Selaer interrupted her thoughts.

Morgana nodded, “Thank you,” and then took one step away from the horse. "I agree that this attack is a concern. It takes a good amount of time and powerful magic to raise so many undead or multiple mages." _Idiot, why am I still here?_

Grenna spoke up, “I’ve smelled a _lot_ of dead things, these have a unique...and horrifying undertone of...well, undeath." She looked apprehensive, and her eyes kept wandering back to the Argonian’s wound.

“It’s not something that’s welcome in the Marsh.” Selaer’s eyes flicked from shadow to shadow, as if more might spring up. “We’re riding for Stormhold now, you’re welcome to ride with us, but we aren’t stopping until we arrive.”

“I’ll be happy for the company.” _Where did that come from?_ Morgana walked back to her horse. “I’m sure Drogon here is ready for another run.”

She patted the gelding on the side of his neck, he nuzzled her pocket, looking for sugar cubes, and then gracefully mounted. They took a moment to jog around the perimeter of the small camp while Selaer and Grenna packed up their things. Though she didn't understand why she had chosen to ride with them instead of just taking off without a word. That's what she always did to avoid situations like this one. Nothing else had made an appearance while they made ready, and for that, Morgana was grateful. There wasn't much left of the undead thanks to Grenna setting them ablaze, but if someone looked closely, they would see some of what had happened that night. While she waited, she offered to have some of their things loaded onto Drogon if that would make their trip more comfortable. Soon they were off, together, for Stormhold. When they reached the city, Morgana decided she would separate herself from them and only meet Selaer briefly at the inn. After that, she needed to disappear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See what's been going on with Grenna and Selaer!  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/22496911/chapters/53756503


	8. Dark Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's wonderful to be working with TheCuriousNumber5 and her characters again! 
> 
> So sorry this took so long! With the virus restrictions and working from home, my whole routine was thrown out the window. Hopefully now with my routine starting to go back to normal, the chapters will come out more regularly.

They rode swiftly from the campsite and made no stops along the way. Drogon was the most cheerful of the bunch; while he ran, he would toss his head in the wind. Usually, this would've brought cheer to Morgana, but this night she had too much to think about. Her thoughts played over the events that happened repeatedly. Though she was still unsure of the events after, she was sure that she would have helped Grenna and Selaer again if she had to choose. She was grateful that she was an experienced rider; if she had not been then, she would have fallen off of her horse as distracted as she was. The road was clear and easy to follow, thankfully, there was no easy way to keep Drogon from leading the group.

Morgana rode silently, keeping to her own thoughts. The first stop she planned on making after stabling her horse would be to a bank, if there was one, and send the payment for Drogon to the stablemaster that owned him. If she could avoid a room at the inn where the planned conversation would take place, that would be preferred. She did not know if there was a Mages Guild in the city of Stormhold or not, but she had hopes that it did. A room at the guild would be easier to come by and give her some distance from the two people that knew what she could do. This would make it easier to leave after the business was concluded as well. They had their direct contact, the innkeeper, and when she tried to leave in secret, she didn't know how soon or what the woman would tell them.

She had been doing just fine on her own, and except for the recent moment of weakness, she had not needed anyone's help. That moment still frustrated her, but she reminded herself that she had never used so much power in such a short time. If she had been able to ride away after the attack was overcome, she wouldn't need to worry about Grenna and Selaer knowing too much. No matter how many times the scenario played over in her head, she could see no other choice but to reveal herself.

The morning sun had broken through the trees; its light was warm and chased away the shadows and chill of the night as they rode along. Eventually, she could see the edges of civilization looming in the distance, slowed the gelding, and focused her attention on the present. The horse was warm and lathered, his ears were forward, eyes bright, and was having the best time. Morgana could see an Argonian posted near the city's entrance on the edge of the road, and she left her hood down. Even from a distance, she could see the figure staring at her with a firm grip on the handle of a spear. Then she watched him lean slightly to one side and look behind her before visibly relaxing. She stayed facing forward and rode through and past the Argonian; she received a curious look from the guard but nothing more.

Drogon nickered a greeting when they came within sight of the stable and received a couple in return. A stablehand poked their head out at the sound of an approaching horse and jogged out to meet them.

"Mornin' miss!" The young Argonian couldn't be more than a boy but was just about the same height as Morgana. He reached them and took hold of the reins, "Wow, isn't he a handsome fellow!"

She dismounted and gave the boy a small smile, "Thank you. I'll give you extra gold if you would get him cooled and give him a good rub-down." At his nod, she proceeded to remove her bags, give the lad the payment, and inquire about a Mages Guild and bank. The boy walked the horse away once they were finished after Morgana gave the gelding some affection and praise.

Morgana walked away from the stables, towards the bank the boy had pointed out, her bags across her shoulder. After riding for so long without rest, her legs were stiff, and her clothing was wrinkled and stained, and there had to be dark circles under her eyes. She longed for a bath, some time to relax, and read a book. The locals stopped to watch her walk by with unreadable expressions, and neither she nor they offered any greeting. She walked tall and kept her focus on the path in front of her, ignoring the stares. A few times, her mind wandered, wondering what her two traveling companions were doing, but had refused to look behind her. The breeze tousled her red curls that had gotten loose, and with it blowing in her face, she almost missed the entrance to the bank.

_____

It had taken little time to get the money on its way to pay for her horse, and now she sat on her cot within the Mages Guild. She had slept in worse conditions during her travels. The guild in town was a repurposed Ayleid ruin, and it was still under renovation. They were pleasant enough and readily offered her a place to stay, with fair warning that it might not be up to her usual standard. The room was private and tucked away in a distant section of the ruin, which matched her preference. They had made sure that all amenities were available for her use to make her stay more comfortable.

Though she was exhausted, sleep would not come, and she resorted to reading after getting herself cleaned up. She had pulled out a book and was resting in on crossed legs while she read, her feet tucked under her. As she read, she could feel sleep creeping its way into her, and her eyes grew tired. Yawning, Morgana stretched out on the bed, unwilling to stop reading at that moment. After a few more pages, she slipped quickly into slumber with the book still on the cot next to her.

_Opening her eyes, she couldn't see anything through the darkness, and she blinked a few times. Her breaths became shallow, and her heartbeat raced in a rise of panic. Slowly her eyes adjusted enough to know that she was not blind, but the room was devoid of all light. This did not give her much comfort. The room smelled of mildew, burnt flesh, and blood._

_A sound brought her attention to the side, bolts and locks were undone, and the door slowly creaked open. Light from torches outside spilled into the room, and a dark figure approached. The suddenness of the light made her shut her eyes tight and then blink rapidly before she could see comfortably again._

_The figure brought one torch in with them and lit some candles in various places around the room, before placing it in a holder by the door. Metallic tools and instruments strewn across the tables glimmered in the light, some with a faint red. The person's hood was still up while they walked around so she couldn't see the face hidden in the shadow. She knew what was coming next instinctively, and her heartbeat quickened._

_Turning towards her, “The Master is not pleased with your results.” The hood remained up, but the voice was scratchy and sent a shiver of terror down her spine._

_As the person walked closer to where she stood, she attempted to move her arms and legs to back away from this person. To her dismay, she found that her wrists and ankles were firmly strapped and chained to a slanted, metal frame that she was stretched across. Panic rose like bile in her throat. She watched the person’s knobbled hand reach out from the black cloak and pick up a knife from the nearest table._

_"Master thinks that maybe for you, the source is within your blood." The person closed the distance and pulled a caldron from the side of the rack and settled it underneath her outstretched wrist. "We must remove it and see."_

_She could see her hand then, or what she had thought was her hand, to her side. It appeared to be masculine, strong yet delicate, like that of Mer men. The hooded figure brought the knife up and placed the cold blade on his wrist, moving it slowly downwards. The edge was not as sharp as it looked, and she could feel the metal tearing the skin of her wrist. Against her will, she screamed in pain, but the voice that came out was that of a man's._

The scream that brought Morgana awake and to a sitting position was her own, but traces of the male's voice echoed in her ears. Her wrist ached, and she clutched it with the opposite hand. A shimmering, faded image of a male Altmer stood at the end of her bed, looking down at her. His face was pained and gaunt, the skin stretched thin over the prominent bone structure. The rest of him was just as thin, he stood almost naked in front of her. She could see deep gashes at his wrists, abdomen, and even horizontally across his forehead, all of which had various stages of dried blood. Her heart raced as she sat on her cot, staring. Deep within herself, she knew that this ghost, this man, was who she had experienced the vision through. The ache in her wrist was fading; she looked down to check for the wound, and as she suspected, saw nothing when she lifted her hand.

“Who are you?” She asked him the question before looking up from her wrist, the ache completely gone.

His voice was cold and distant, "Beware the light that hides in the dark. In the smoke and shadows, it lurks. Beware, for your magic draws them." With each of his words, a cold seeped into her core, and all Morgana could do was listen. It was very similar to what the ghost woman had said to her on the ship and yet different. The connection was making her uneasy, and she shifted positions on the cot.

After he spoke, the ghost began to fade, and her heartbeat slowed while he disappeared. Only when he was gone did she look around the room and verified that she was still within the Mages Guild in Stormhold. She was thankful that no one had seemed to hear her scream, or at least no one had come pounding at the door yet. Morgana leaned over and picked up the book that had fallen to the floor while she slept and waited a few moments to ultimately collect herself.

"I need some air." She spoke to the silent room and placed the book down on the bed as she stood. Within a few steps, she had made herself ready to exit the room and all of the Mages Guild.

Outside, she noted the sun's position and determined that it must be the following afternoon, and she slept longer than she thought. Not in the mood for anything, in particular, Morgana let herself wander through the streets. She passed through market stalls and across one of the bridges to more of the specialty vendors, passing by the inn that was mentioned. Stares followed her as she walked, and she did her best not to acknowledge the onlookers. She had half a thought to check in with the bank and then take Drogon out for a run, but a familiar person caught her attention.

At one of the market stalls, she could see Grenna with her back to her. She watched as Grenna leaned down, her face close to the glass bottles, staring intently as she picked one up, measured it in her hand, and set it back down before moving on to another.

Morgana stood rooted to the spot, the path she was taking would take her directly to Grenna. Her attempts to avoid any awkwardness, or rather her recent travel companions, would have failed eventually, she knew. The hope was that it would have happened much later after they arrived in Stormhold, and in control of herself. Some eyes were on her, curious as to why she was just standing there. Turning back in a moment of panic would only encourage gossip about the strange, red-haired, Breton woman. Once or twice, while she made up her mind, someone had to push past her, she was forced to step aside, or someone bumped into her.

Taking a deep breath, she walked forward and tapped Grenna on the shoulder gently, “In need of more supplies already?”

Grenna jerked back violently, giving a yelp and nearly overturning the table. Small bottles and containers went flying; fortunately, they were all small enough to clatter to the ground without breaking. She clutched her chest, looking up, fearful, before recognizing Morgana. Quickly, though, she scanned the faces of the other people in the immediate vicinity.

“Sorry...sorry...I...so sorry.” Grenna's anxiety did not seem to abate, and she turned to the vendor, an Argonian woman with a stony expression.

“I’m going to buy a _lot_ of these, I promise.” The vendor merely nodded and started picking some of the vials and bottles up.

Grenna tried to help, scooping up some and putting them haphazardly onto the table. “Morgana, sorry...it’s not you, you didn’t startle me...well, you did, but it wasn’t…” Grenna made a frustrated noise. “How are you? Since…you know, all the...erm... _giant wasps_.”

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Morgana picked up a couple of bottles that had rolled her way and placed them on the counter. “Though I don’t think it would’ve taken much seeing how jumpy you are. I would hope that the… giant wasps aren’t to blame, you handled them well.”

Grenna lowered her voice, half muttering, “Giant wasps are the least of my problems right now. If that’s any indication. In fact, I would welcome an entire swarm of giant wasps if it meant that I didn’t have to...deal with the thing...that I have to...deal with.” She ran her hands back over her hair, letting out a long breath.

Checking to see that the bottle vendor was out of earshot before sidling a little closer to Morgana, “I came here to...get away from a...rather terrible existence. I thought this was far enough away, but it isn’t, someone’s…”

Morgana waited patiently for Grenna to continue, unsure of what to expect for the rest of her sentence. “I’ve been found, apparently. So, if you see another Breton creeping around with blonde hair…”

Morgana raised her eyebrows in curiosity and surprise, and she couldn't help but look around them quickly. One person, in particular, caught her eye in the sea of Argonians, "Like that one?" She raised her chin slightly to indicate the direction behind Grenna.

“ _GREN-NA!_ ” Sure enough, the blonde let out a yell upon seeing Grenna from behind.

Out of the corner of her eye, Morgana saw Grenna tense, and the woman's fingertips started to glow with magic. She watched Grenna whip around to the direction of the voice, the direction Morgana was looking in.

"Grenna Sidoric!" Morgana watched as Grenna's chest rose and fell rapidly. A good many Argonians seemed to take notice of the commotion. Between the knocked over table, the blonde woman shouting, and herself a red-haired Breton, they were quickly becoming a side-show attraction. The woman in the distance grinned from ear to ear and waved, and started shoving her way past people, coming their way. Morgana resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the blonde's bubbly excitement.

Morgana stood and watched the blonde run towards them, the surname she used for Grenna rolling around in her head. It sounded familiar, but distant enough that she couldn't quite remember immediately. The blonde girl looked just as familiar as the name sounded, and her curiosity was piqued. She knew that she wasn't the only one with secrets that had been obvious, but the panic she could see in Grenna's face was enough to make up her mind that the young woman was not a welcome sight.

“There are enough people between her and us, we can get you away.” She looked around quickly, "Everyone is pretty much taller than we are. I can go in a different direction since I stand out a bit more." Morgana moved to stand beside Grenna and watch the movement of the girl coming towards them, waiting for her companion to say something.

Finally, after a moment, Grenna finished, "Whether that is or isn't my sister, it's not a reunion I want to have with all of Stormhold watching... It's one I must have nevertheless." Grenna spoke while she moved around the vendors and disappeared behind the nearby bank, with Morgana in tow by her wrist.

They arrived out of sight of the crowd, “I will question her back here, if it gets out of hand, I imagine the two of us are adept enough to take care of it. Especially after the...wasps. Not to mention whatever Shadowscale Selaer has watching me.”

Grenna had dropped her hold of Morgana's wrist just before the blonde came around the building. The crow Morgana recognized from the previous night had flapped over and landed on Grenna’s shoulder. He ruffled his feathers when she tried to shake him off. A moment later the blonde came around the corner.

“Grenna? Why did you run…” The girl let out a squeal when the crow lunged at her, and in a swift motion, Grenna had grabbed his tail feathers and tossed him to the side. Then just as quick, she watched as her friend grabbed the blonde by the front of her jacket, and pushed her back against the wall forcefully.

“ _What_ in Oblivion are you doing here?” The words came out deep and harsh from Grenna.

The young woman flinched, “Looking for _you_ , obviously. What are… stop it, ow!" Grenna must have gotten rough at that moment, but she couldn’t say for sure. As Morgana observed the conversation she was sure that the sister acted as young as she appeared.

Grenna continued, “How did you find--”

From the corner of her eye, Morgana saw an Argonian move to close the distance and instantly knew who it would be. She watched as Selaer's arm snaked between the two women and snatched the younger woman from Grenna's grip. The sister managed one small shriek before he threw open the hatch beside him and unceremoniously tossed her down the stairs. She landed with an oof, and Selaer peered down at Grenna. Through the exchange, Morgana had remained silent and observing, until Selaer's tossing of Grenna's possible-sister made her smirk.

Grenna looked up at the Argonian, “Impeccable timing.”

“In public?” Selaer murmured just loud enough that she heard him where she stood, then he turned his narrowed eyes at Morgana. She didn’t balk or lower her eyes when Selaer glared at her, and only when Grenna spoke did she avert her eyes.

Grenna brought the Argonian’s attention back to her, “Why do you think I came back _here_?" She audibly huffed, walked over to the open hatch, and looked over at Morgana when she was partway down. "I'd say you could go, but, all things considered, we don't know who else is out there."

Morgana nodded in agreement and kept her smart comments to herself. The hatch was only a couple steps away, she walked towards it and recognized it as an entrance to an outlaws refuge. She looked down into the stairway, Morgana could see the young woman seated at the bottom landing. From her vantage point, she could see that the woman winced, and there was fear in her eyes as Selaer made his way towards her. Part of her felt sorry for the naive woman, but not enough to interfere.

The rest of her thoughts were occupied with something else. While the scene played out before her, she remembered where she had heard the surname Sidoric.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go and give Kudos to Grenna and Selaer's story by TheCuriousNumber5: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22496911/chapters/53756503


	9. Why Me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More thanks to TheCuriousNumber5 for this continuing collaboration!  
> Read Grenna & Selaer's story : https://archiveofourown.org/works/22496911/chapters/60210256

Morgana waited at the top of the stairs to descend and pondered the memory of the surname Sidoric. She knew the name from growing up in Daggerfall, a noble family with a mixed reputation. Depending on who you asked, you would receive two different sides, an upstanding family or one with darker secrets. If this indeed was Grenna’s sister, and her last name was Sidoric… Why did she come to Stormhold? It was none of her business, but Morgana was curious about the woman who had chosen to be her friend.

Before she stepped down, she could see Jillean seated at the bottom of the stairway and a little battered from the toss. Selaer reached her first, and Morgana watched the girl's eyes widen in fear as she tried to make herself smaller. She closed the hatch behind her, and they were left with only the torchlight.

“Who are you?” Selaer’s voice was low and threatening.

“Jillean Sidoric, Grenna’s _sister_. Grenna, _what_ is the matter with you? I thought you’d be glad to see me.” The girl whimpered.

“I don’t know that you are who you say you are. And if you aren’t…he _will_ kill you.” The tone in Grenna’s reply sounded unsure.

“I _am_ who I say I am! Have you gone mad?!” The girl looked at Selaer, who had drawn a dagger after the start of the interrogation. She then turned to look at Grenna and then back again to the Argonian.

Selaer leaned on the wall, which didn’t make him any less threatening. “What is something your sister would know that no one else would?”

“Erm…” Grenna’s frown was an interesting reaction, Morgana thought. She didn't know what it was like to have siblings, but she would have guessed that there would be something only her sister would know.

"That is not a fair question! You kept every thought and feeling that you had a bloody secret! Not one of us knows a thing about you other than how much you hated to be obedient!" The girl began to cry. Oh, she is so very young, and how did she make it here on her own?

“Show me,” Grenna told her suddenly, and that grabbed Morgana’s attention as well.

“Show you what?”

“You know what.”

"Oh." Her sister blinked and looked as if she would be sick before slowly getting to her feet. She unfastened her coat and started pulling at the linen shirt tucked into her leggings, but halted, glancing again from Selaer to Grenna; Selaer turned away. “There.” Jillean lifted her shirt, and there on her right side, on her ribs, was a little tattoo consisting of small flowers and vines.

That's it? The tattoo was a tiny thing, and it was amusing to Morgana that the girl would get so worked up about it. She couldn't help but stifle a chuckle with a cough, and then she leaned casually on the wall next to her with her arms folded. The girl's face looked like it was turning red with embarrassment.

“It was a big deal for _me_.” She frowned.

“Very well, I believe you are who you say. But how did you find me?” Grenna gave an impatient wave.

“You’re going to be angry.”

“I’m _already_ angry.”

“The night you left…I slipped a small stone into your bag…” Oh no. That statement made Morgana mentally cringe.

“You _tracked_ me?!”

“I didn’t like the thought that you’d be gone forever, and so…” Jillean visibly deflated.

“Why did you come here?”

“To warn you…I heard people talking with father about coming for you. They said they knew where you’d gone.”

“And you’ve led them right to me. _Brilliant_ , Jillean. Don’t you think a letter would have sufficed? The gardener would have helped get a message to me.” Her voice was raised, and Grenna was clearly angry.

Selaer spoke up, “Not to worry, no one will get near enough to accomplish anything.”

"I'm not worried," Grenna muttered. “But now I’ve got _this_ idiot to contend with.”

“Hey!” Jillean pouted, and Grenna whirled on her again.

“You are, Jilly, you’re an unworldly fool. I can appreciate your desire to warn me _if_ that is what you’re here for, but you’ve caused a mess of trouble because you _didn’t_ think! This is not a game, I didn’t leave for _fun_.”

“I know that! But what do you think happened to me when you left? They knew we got along. It was frightening to leave, but it was better than…” The girl stopped, and it looked like she would start crying again. “I miss my fine things, but…I don’t think I want to go back.”

“What? You cannot stay here…this is…just… _no_. Absolutely not.”

“That can be dealt with later, Grenna.” Selaer stepped away from the wall, sheathing his dagger.

Morgana looked up at the sound of footsteps and saw someone had turned the bend in the corridor that led to the outlaw refuge proper. Everyone turned to look, and the young man nearly fell over himself as he turned to scurry back the way he'd come.

Selaer continued, “We must worry first about whoever followed her.”

“Grenna, can I at least stay with you until it gets sorted out?” Jillean implored, but Grenna shook her head.

“I don’t know where you’d…I just…I don’t know.” Jillean jumped suddenly as another Shadowscale stepped out of the shadows. Morgana wondered how long they had been standing there.

“Take her, await my orders.” Selaer nodded toward Jillean.

“ _WHAT?_ ” She shrieked, backing away from the Argonian.

“Gag her if you must.” Selaer shrugged.

“Jilly, be _quiet_ and go with her if you would like to remain amongst the living.” Grenna shoved her toward the waiting Shadowscale, who said nothing. With no other option, they disappeared around the corner. Grenna let out a long breath and rubbed her face.

“Gods, nothing is ever simple, is it?” She groaned.

Selaer gave a snort. “Did you actually expect it would be?”

“No, but still.” She heaved a heavy sigh and looked over to where Morgana was patiently and quietly waiting. “I don’t think any of this nonsense will affect you, at least. I’d suggest the two of you have your little chat sooner rather than later, though.”

“Tonight then.” Selaer nodded in agreement.

Pushing off the wall, arms still folded, Morgana came forward. “What do you need me to do?” She expected precise, detailed instructions when dealing with assassins to avoid detection.

“When Coin Brothers closes, meet us there.” Selaer turned then to Grenna. “There are loose ends that need tying up. When you are done here, I will see you at home.” Morgana waited as Grenna turned her head to watch after Selaer until he was out of sight.

“Um…” Grenna blinked and then cleared her throat. “Well. That ordeal was…something.”

She watched Grenna for a moment, unsure of what to say or how to approach the subject… and decided to get right to the point. “Is your name truly Sidoric?”

“It is, unfortunately.” Grenna looked uneasy. “My father _is_ Lord Weylen Sidoric.”

Morgana shrugged. "Okay." It wasn't really any of her business, and secrets were something that she knew all about. While she had no other choice but to reveal one of her biggest secrets, which did not mean that she would ask the same of someone else. The simple verification of Grenna’s last name was enough to satisfy her curiosity for the time being. If Grenna confided in her, truly marking her as her friend, then she would listen.

Grenna blinked slowly, staring at Morgana for a moment. “Alright.” She gave a nod. “So…I will see you later, then, at the Coin Brothers? I’ve got to go, ah...do something. Selaer…well, not Selaer, that isn’t what I meant…well…I mean that I…” Grenna shook her head. “Do enjoy the rest of your day, don’t get eaten by plants.” She hurriedly made her escape back up the steps and through the hatch.

Once Grenna had turned to walk away, Morgana let herself smile. “Yes, see you later, and I hope you enjoy the rest of your day doing _something_ with your Shadowscale.” Even though she couldn’t see it, Morgana was sure she was blushing.

She stood a moment longer at the base of the exit, an ache forming in her head from the interesting yet trying day. Morgana took a step back and leaned her back against the cool stone wall, closing her eyes. The almost complete silence was calming and helped to quiet the headache. While she stood there, listening to the quiet and the distant noises of the outlaws' refuge, the temperature dropped. An involuntary shiver brought her eyes open and bumps along her flesh, the wall was now too cold to lean on. Morgana thought she heard a noise, but she couldn't determine which direction it was coming from. It could only be coming down the hall, she thought, I'm stood near the hatch. Maybe it was the guy from before attempting again to leave?

The hatch closed with a violent crash, the torches nearest to her snuffed out, and Morgana jumped back out of reflex, pressing herself against the stones. Her heart now pounding in her chest from the surprise, and her eyes darting around the darkness. Something icy latched onto her wrist, and it took all of her concentration not to scream. To her left, the air began to glow faintly at first, and it grew in intensity and clarity until she could see that it was the lost soul of an Argonian that clasped her wrist. The form was colorless, but the features were apparent. Rows of small horns ran along the left and right side of his face and along the crest of his head. A thick, vertical scar started above his brow and went through his eye to end at the base of his jaw. The eye that the injury went through was cloudy and more opaque than the other.

His voice broke through the darkness in an echoing whisper, “There comes a day when the world becomes shrouded in shadows. A forbidden relationship shall mark the rise of what was forgotten and an end to our suffering."

"I don't understand…" Now that she knew what was happening, it was easier to focus and slowly regain an illusion of control, though her headache increased its intensity.

"Find the place where our souls were trapped, through darkness and fog. When the moon shines brightest, the Hist will reveal the way." The ghost disappeared in a gust of wind more quickly than it had appeared, the hatch door blowing open.

The moment the hatch was open, Morgana rushed up the steps and out into the open air. She checked the sun’s position and counted the hours until she would meet with Selaer and Grenna. There was no doubt in her mind that she needed to tell them about this encounter, she was just unsure of how to approach it. Would they even believe her?

After she finished calculating, she realized that she was down in the tunnel less time than it felt. Outside, the sun was still warm, but the chill remained deep within her. She rubbed her hands on her arms to regain some warmth and then crossed her arms close to her chest. A quick look around confirmed that no one was near enough to see her come out of the outlaws' entrance, and they would not have seen the manner of her exit. Walking quickly, she rounded the side of the bank and mingled back into the crowd.

Morgana walked aimlessly about the town, her mind was in a whirl, and the ache increased the more she tried to wrap her head around what had happened, or what was happening. Her nerves were fraying the more she puzzled. Her fingers fidgeted and twirled around some of her curls that came loose.

Was this ghost, this lost soul, hinting at the same thing as the one earlier? Why were they coming to her? She could feel certain bits of information fall into place instinctually, but other thoughts floated away out of her reach. There was a familiarity about the ghosts that had recently visited her, but not this new one. Though she didn’t know what made them familiar, she knew there was a connection. The more she replayed the warnings over and over again to herself, the more questions she had. 

“Watch out!”

Suddenly, she was grabbed and pulled to the side, a hand wrapped around her upper arm. This quick moment of surprise brought her focus back to her surroundings. She was off-balance after she was forced aside, and she fell into the hard form of an Argonian. The other scaled arm caught her to keep her from knocking both of them to the ground. The shock of this brought her head around to look up at the one that had a hold of her arm, and then forward to figure out what was happening. Morgana pushed herself off and away from the Argonian, but he held her arm to keep her from going too far.

Another Argonian held a bow at the ready, facing down a huge insect buzzing about not two feet from where she initially was walking. The bug was the size of a large hunting dog that nobles like to keep, with large beating wings and a stinger on the base of its abdomen that looked the same size as a dagger. Two more arrows flew and embedded in the insect's soft underbelly, ending the buzzing, and it fell to the ground with a crunch. A few other insects had come up behind the first, but they were dispatched quick enough with a few arrows, and each landed with a crunch.

The one with the bow turned to face her, “You need to pay attention where you are going, outsider. You might not be so lucky next time.” The voice was female and guarded, though not unkind.

“I can handle myself.” She scowled and yanked her arm loose from the other Argonian’s grasp.

Before the two could make a reply, Morgana turned and briskly walked back towards the main parts of town. She rechecked the sun's position and was glad to see that it was just above the horizon, it would set within an hour. That gave her enough time to prepare, or rather calm her nerves, before meeting Selaer and Grenna at the Coin Brother’s.


	10. Coin Brothers

The moment she returned to the guild's modest room, she closed the door, locked it, and sat heavily down on the bunk. She closed her eyes and supported her head on hands with elbows propped on her thighs. Occasionally her hands would rub her temples as she took deep breaths. The trick was trying to not think about that afternoon as she sat in the quiet. The longer she sat, the more control she regained, and eventually, she was able to fix herself up.

Morgana stood in front of a small mirror in her borrowed room at the Mages Guild. Her own face reflected on the surface, but her green eyes and the dark circles forming under them were the only sign of her exhaustion. Her red curls were put back into a simple updo, restrained with three simple metal headbands and numerous pins. She wore simple gray tunic and breeches with her tall black riding boots, cleaned of any remaining swamp debris.

She took a deep breath and reached down to pick up her cloak from a nearby chair and swung it around her shoulders. The clasp was fitted at her collarbone, she pulled the hood up to obscure her face in its shadow. Once she was satisfied, Morgana left the room and made her way to the guild's exit.

The Mages Guild was quiet, most of the occupants either in bed or in their private rooms or studies. No one took notice of her leaving into the night, not even when she opened the large stone door. The night was cool in comparison to the afternoon, but the humidity remained. The distinct odor of swamp water wafted around her in the breeze, and thankfully no undead reached her nose. Her path took her past the empty market and across one of the few bridges. Only once did she have to step into the shadows to avoid detection of a guard and so she reached the inn with no trouble.

Morgana saw the Coin Brothers tavern was dark save for dim light visible through one of the windows as she walked closer. Her black cloak was around her to obscure her features. This allowed her to keep to the shadows as she made her way to the door. She kept her steps as soft as possible on the steps, and upon reaching the entrance, she knocked softly.

But there was no answer.

She took a deep breath, looked around for any observers, and when she saw none opened the door quietly. Morgana slipped through the doorway when there was just enough space for her, closed the door, and removed the hood from her head. The room came fully into view, and she saw Grenna and Selaer, seated side by side at one of the tables. The only light source came from the table where they were seated on the room's left side. At the back, a light came out from the curtained back room.

Morgana took in the details of the room, "I was not followed." She kept her tone quiet and even.

Selaer motioned to the seat across from him, “You called this meeting, so what is it you wanted to discuss?” He sat back in his chair and looked more at ease than she had witnessed before. Grenna was dwarfed beside him, where she sat quietly, fidgeting idly with a small, leather braided cord.

Morgana took the seat the Selaer gestured to, keeping her posture straight. She folded her hands on her lap and kept her eyes focused on the other two. The headache she had hoped was finally gone had returned the moment she passed through the inn's door. Never before had she been this stressed over a conversation, but to be fair never had she before had circumstances like this one. She tried to take deep breaths, but not let it be evident that she was.

Her eyes focused on Selaer when she answered. "My original intent was to gather information and contacts to offer… my services. I have my own contract, and service fees are negotiable." She took a moment of thought before continuing, "Generally speaking, I have done contracted work for those that need information from targets or contacts that have recently or long ago passed. Each situation is different, but I have the ability to contact or pull souls back to this plane of existence and then release them back to Aetherius, preferably. I have also been able to help…" She did her best to choose her words carefully, "Lost souls."

Selaer sat forward again, folding his gloved hands, watching her, his Argonian face unreadable. “Here, in the fen, in all of the Black Marsh, necromancy for good or ill is rooted out and...summarily eradicated. To take back what rightfully belongs to Sithis, even for a moment, would be unthinkable to those of us who venerate him.” He was straight to the point, not short with her, and Morgana could appreciate that. 

"What you did for us is known, and at my behest, your visit here has been...uninterrupted, and will remain so for the duration of your stay."

After his reply, Morgana nodded, "Not all necromancers deserve to be eradicated, but I understand that long-standing beliefs are sometimes impossible to change. I thank you for the knowledge and my safety. I plan on taking my leave as soon as possible, no need to make anyone more uncomfortable than necessary." 

As she finished her last sentence, she began to wring her hands and took a couple of deep breaths. She was grateful that her hands were below the table's surface, but she knew that the facade was crumbling rapidly. The only hope was that the conversation would end, and she could leave.

“You are Grenna’s friend, no one will drive you out. But...if you insist on an abrupt departure, I would, at the very least, wait until daybreak.”

Grenna piped up, “The things that will eat you at night are infinitely more terrifying. And dangerous. And now include...giant wasps.”

“What?” Selaer looked at Grenna, who shook her head.

“I’ll explain later.”

Morgana looked down momentarily at her lap and continued, “Before our meeting here is concluded, I must give you some information that I believe is essential.” Here goes nothing, she thought to herself.

After another, this time visible, deep breath, she continued, "I will tell you as it was told to me. 'There comes a day when the world becomes shrouded in shadows. A forbidden relationship shall mark the rise of what was forgotten and an end to our suffering. Find the place where our souls were trapped, through darkness and fog. When the moon shines brightest, the Hist will reveal the way.’”

Morgana couldn’t help but look back and forth between Selaer and Grenna, judging their reactions. Her fear threatened to bubble over inside of her as she waited for what felt like forever. Any moment the questions, or worse the rejection and disgust, would be written on their faces. The orders to leave and never return was also a possibility. She knew that she shouldn’t have shared some of her secrets, it would have been best to leave Stormhold as soon as she and Drogon were rested and resupplied. Morgana was doing her best to remain calm and collected on the outside. All the while, her heart thundered loudly in her chest, and her head ached something fierce.

She watched Grenna and Selaer as they stared at each other for a long moment. A silent conversation passed between them. Eventually, Grenna frowned a little bit before they both turned back to look at Morgana.

“I’m guessing that came from something...not entirely corporeal?” Grenna questioned, her tone searching for confirmation rather than an answer.

“You would be correct, an Argonian with rows of small horns along the left and right side of his face and along the crest of his head. He also had a thick, vertical scar that started above his brow and went through his eye to end at the base of his jaw. The eye that the injury went through was cloudy and more opaque than the other as if he was blind in that eye.” She hoped that giving the description of the ghost would add some validity to the information.

“Hm. That’s...very specific. But, I’ll see that the message is passed on to the proper people.” Selaer crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

Morgana replied, “I hope the information is of use.” … and that they didn’t think her completely insane.

Selaer uncrossed his arms decidedly, "It would be rude to send you off empty-handed, I suppose, and while I might not evoke the Wrath of Sithis for lack of manners, I'm still reluctant to meet the wrath of Grenna.” Grenna gave a snort of amusement, turning pink. “If you’re not opposed to the long journey, there is someone in Solitude who is knowledgeable about things in the realm of your...skillset.” 

He rose and crossed the room to the bar, rummaging about behind it for a moment before producing a small scrap of parchment and a pencil. Sitting down, he scribbled something onto it and passed it across the table. “Argildur Tarbarsson." He almost chuckled. "It doesn't get more Nord than that. He will not be difficult to find; he's Solitude's worst kept secret but the best keeper of secrets. He'll be of some use to you, I think. And if you tell him you came from Stormhold, he’ll know.”

“I appreciate the information.” Morgana took the piece of parchment and stood from her chair to leave, “If I do not see you before I leave, I can always be reached by the Mages Guild Ravens. They know me as ‘Death-fire’ and will find me.” Before either of the two could reply, Morgana walked towards the door, pulled up her hood again, and exited with only a small creak and eventual click from the door. 

The urge to run was overwhelming; to run to the stable, saddle up her horse, and ride off into the night. To leave this town behind. Morgana forced herself to walk away from the inn and in the direction of the Mages Guild. One foot in front of the other, one step at a time. Breathe in, breathe out. She was sweating under her cloak despite the chill of the night.

Her feet unconsciously took her in the direction of the stables. Only when she heard a familiar nicker did she look upwards. Drogon poked his head out in her direction and watched her curiously. She pulled down her hood to feel the breeze against her warm face. The stablehand and stable master were nowhere in sight, much to her relief, and she approached the stall. Morgana quickly undid the latch and stepped into the stall, closing the half-door behind her. The horse bumped her shoulder gently with his nose, and her hand automatically went up to stroke his face.

“Hello handsome, are you doing ok? Probably better than me today… How did I let myself get into this mess?” She sighed, “Everything I’ve worked for is falling apart.”

The gelding nuzzled her and played with the hood of her cloak while she talked. Only Drogon and the other horses were there to hear her, and any unknown creatures that lived in the marsh. There was the chance of Shadowscales watching her, but she pushed that from her mind.

She continued to pet and stroke the gelding, "It has been stressful these past few days, actually since the first ghost on the ship. I had my life exactly how I wanted it with little to no stress. I could travel, take care of any contracted jobs, earn coin, and then be left alone. No one asked questions, and I never had to explain anything. I had my privacy and now…. Now two people know two of my biggest secrets! They aren't under contract to remain silent. Oh, and of course the Shadowscales know who I am and what I can do, but at least they should know how to keep secrets.”

Her hands stopped their movement while she pondered, “I learned some interesting things about Grenna, and I feel that she can keep my secret… I am keeping hers as well, after all. She did help me after…" The frustration burst forth, “ If I was just able to ride away after the attack and not pass out, then all the rest could have been avoided! I could have disappeared and gone somewhere where I don't have ghosts visiting me, or people knowing my business." 

Morgana placed her forehead on the gelding’s neck, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply. The smell of hay, grain, and horses filled her nostrils as she breathed deeply. She took a step closer. Drogon lifted his head over her shoulder, using gentle force against her back with his head, and brought her into a sort of hug. 

"Hopefully, removing myself from this town, and ultimately this country will make it easier to get things back to how they were." Morgana stepped back from under the horse's neck and looked into his eyes. "You would be happy for another adventure, I bet. We're going to the western half of Skyrim, Solitude specifically, and it will be a long ride."

The gelding’s ears perked forward and replied with a soft whiney. Morgana patted his head and laughed, feeling better, calmer than before. They stayed together in the stall, Morgana groomed him to keep her hands busy. Eventually, she went back to the guild when the stars were bright in the sky, and the moon began its descent.

When morning came, she was relieved that nothing had disturbed her while she slept. The guild was filled with just enough noise from people rising and going about their day. She packed all of her things and dressed in travel clothes. Only once did she stop to think about leaving a note at the Coin Brothers, and decided against it. They already knew how to get ahold of her, and that was the most she had told anyone before. She could do nothing more to help with the undead situation and only expected to be contacted when Grenna needed specialized ingredients. That was enough contact as far as Morgana was concerned.

Drogon was excited and fidgety when the stableboy was tacking him up for her, which made the young Argonian laugh. He helped tie on the saddlebags and gave her directions to get to Cyrodiil. She could hook up with a trading caravan there to get her near enough or right to Solitude. The lad held Drogon still enough for her to mount, though the gelding was trembling in anticipation. Once seated, Morgana waved goodbye to the boy and rode off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to check out Grenna & Selaer's story!  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/22496911/chapters/53756503


	11. Welcome to Solitude

2 Weeks Later - Haafingar Hold - Evening

Thunder rolled, lightning flashed, and rain came down so thick that it was difficult to see where they were riding. The storm came from the mountains, and there was no choice but to keep going towards Solitude. Morgana relied on her gelding's senses to keep them going along the road, as hers were impaired by the storm. Her hooded head was bent, soaked, and some escaped curls dripping wet. She looped her reins over the horn of her saddle, and that left her hands free to hold her cloak shut against the whipping wind.

She lifted her head periodically to peer through the rain for signs of the city. Finally, when the storm was raging its wildest, she saw the light coming from a possible tower. About time! Drogon sensed the change in his rider and lifted his head, ears pivoting to and fro. The horse picked up his pace without encouragement and worked up to a gallop. The sound of his hooves on the gravel was barely audible in the thundering storm.

Tucked back against the gate to get out of most of the rain were two guards huddled within their own cloaks. They tried to call out to her, but she was unable to hear them until she was right next to the closed gate.

"If you are in need of the stables, it's just down that way a few yards," The one pointed a short way off the main road where they came.

Morgana grumbled and, without a word, turned the reluctant gelding back out into the rain. At least the guard was correct in how close the stables were to the gate. An unhappy stablehand met her near the stalls. The stable was big and open, but the horses looked comfortable with a lot of bedding and protection from the wind and rain.

"Why are you out and about in this weather?" The man steadied the horse while Morgana dismounted, studying her unfamiliar features. "You're not from here, are you?”

She ignored the Nord's questions, "How much per night?" His response was barely audible, but she was able to make out the amount and pressed enough coins to cover a few days into his large hand.

Morgana unpacked her bags from his saddle, made sure he was comfortable, had a few snacks, and affectionate pets. She made a promise to come back as soon as she could before she jogged back to the gate. The guards opened the way enough for her to slip into the city without bothering to question her.

Keeping a hold of her hood and outer cloak, she made it to the inn's massive wooden door just inside the city walls. With the storm working against her, the door was difficult to open, even with the extra protection of the high stone walls and more cumbersome than expected. The wind picked up and pushed against it, forcing Morgana to grip the handle with both hands. Without her hood being held in place, it flew backward off her head and set loose her vibrant curls to whip about her, the soaking wet tendrils sticking to her face. A final tug and the door came open with a loud bang!.

She rushed into the inn and pulled the door shut with an equally loud bang. Morgana flung her hair out of her face with one hand and tucked it all back under her hood as quick as she could, striding purposefully to the bar. Water dripping from every piece of clothing, and the discomfort was plainly written in her features, her green eyes scanned the room. Almost everyone had stopped what they were doing to see who was entering the building. She was greeted with a mixture of curious and distrustful looks from the patrons. Some openly stared at her or craned their necks to get a better look.

"So, that's when he said to me…" A male's voice paused mid-sentence, and she couldn't help but look towards the source.

A trio of men stood off to one side of the room. One of the men, the tallest Nord she had ever seen, openly watched her. Still, it wasn't malicious, judgemental, or distasteful. Two of his companions stood on either side, all three with a large mug in one hand. In his right hand, he absent-mindedly swung around a warhammer. There was a smirk growing into a lopsided sort of smile, and his companions resumed their conversation without him listening. Morgana didn’t let her gaze linger and took a seat at the bar.

THUD! The sound echoed through the inn. Many patrons began to laugh. Morgana resisted the urge to turn and look and failed like everyone else. The Nord she saw was still attempting to look at her, and he had taken a step to the right for a better angle.

The tall Nord’s companion on his right let out a pained squeal, “Oooouuch! Harek! You idiot!”

“What?” Harek turned his gaze from Morgana.

“You dropped the bloody hammer on my foot!” This brought more laughter from onlookers.

He looked down, and sure enough, the warhammer was no longer in his hand, but it, in fact, was lying on the floor where his friend's foot had once been. The friend to his right sat down and took off his boot to check and see if the weapon had broken anything.

“You’ll be fine, it’s not that heavy.” Harek picked up the hammer and attached it to a strap on his belt.

His companion retaliated, “Let me drop it on your foot then!”

The friend on his left couldn’t stop laughing and sloshed a bit of his mead over the rim of the mug. “So easily distracted by a woman? It’s like you’ve never seen one before, Harek!”

Smiling, he punched the man in the arm, "I'm sure you've never had one that is that beautiful."

“Maybe in his dreams!” The third friend chimed in.

Morgana had turned away upon hearing mention of a beautiful woman that the Nord, Harek, had been staring at. Their drunken voices carried easily through the inn, and she forced herself to frown rather than blush. She should be used to people staring, they did it all the time. For some time, she could hear them boasting and joking while they drank their mead. His two companions downed their mugs and repeatedly called for more, while his last one sat half full and luke-warm, which they loved reminding him of.

She gave no reaction to the boasting and joking she overheard and talked to no one except the innkeep, but she ordered some food and drink while she sat there. After she finished her meal, the innkeeper led the way towards a room. There was a Mages Guild in town, but it was clear on the other side, and she didn't want to go back out into the storm. Relief washed over her when they left the inn's common area, and she could no longer hear the drunken Nords or feel the one watching her.

Morgana happily took off her still wet cloak and clothes, after the innkeeper closed the door. The warmth of the fire downstairs helped begin the drying process, and she no longer dripped water everywhere she walked. Her hair was a damp mess of curls, and she removed all of the pins before taking a cloth from the wash table to dry herself.

The rain pounded against the window, and lightning flashed outside, followed by thunder, but the room was dry and comfortable. She slipped into bed, the hour late, and brought one of the books from her bag and settled it into her lap. Eventually, the storm passed and changed into a steady rain. The inn quieted afterward as people left to go to their own homes. The rain stopped shortly after midnight, and it was then that Morgana put her book away to get some sleep.

Morning in the inn was quiet, Morgana took the opportunity to grab breakfast and ask the innkeeper about the Nord Selaer gave her the name of, without anyone to overhear. As she crept down the stairs, she did see that she was the only one awake besides the person cleaning the bar, clearly not the same person that tended it last night when she arrived.

She stepped up and cleared her throat, “Excuse me, could you tell me where to find someone?”

“Oh aye,” The woman lifted her head, “Who might you be lookin for?”

“A Nord named ‘Argildur Tarbarsson,’ I was told that I would find him here in Solitude.”

The woman looked at Morgana with an eyebrow raised, “Oh aye, you’ll find him here. He spends a good amount of time gossiping around town... here, the bard's college, or eavesdropping at the Blue Palace. If you don't want to chase him down, you can leave a note for him here, and I'll make sure he gets it."

“Thank you, I will do just that and bring the note to you once I have written it.” The woman nodded and went back to cleaning dishes when Morgana went back to her room.

She left the note with the woman at the bar and stepped out into the morning sun. The sky was clear, but the air still had the smell of damp earth and stone. Only a few people were out and about opening their shops or stalls for the day, and a few early risers walking about. It was chilly enough to warrant wearing her cloak. Still, she kept the hood down to be less suspicious, enough talk from the patrons last night would be enough to make her presence known around town. The red-headed stranger was a commonplace title recently.

Guards openly stared at her when they walked past on their rounds, some grasping the hilts of their sheathed weapons. The welcome in Black Marsh was warmer than what she had received so far here in Solitude. Now she understood the rumor that the people of western Skyrim distrusted strangers. She openly ignored the looks or dismissed them.

The purpose of her walk was to get to know where things were and see what there was to see in Solitude. So what if she wanted to enjoy a moment of exploration in a new place, it kept her mind focused on the present.

One stall at the base of a zigzag stone ramp caught her attention with a large stack of books, and above her, she could hear the pounding of a blacksmith’s hammer. She purchased a couple new books and headed up the walkway to see what could be found at the top.

More shops greeted her on either side of a stone archway; alchemy, enchanting, and a stall with pleasant food aromas on the left; to the right was a tailor and the hammering source. A tall, well built Nord stood shirtless and hunched over an anvil. His brown hair was braided in a traditional Nord fashion, and the sweat glistened on his muscular arms as they flexed with each swing of the hammer. She couldn’t help but stare at the man as he worked.

His focus was broken when another blacksmith appeared next to him and began a conversation. They both chuckled after the short exchange, and then as the other man walked away, the Nord turned just enough for her to recognize him as the man from the previous night at the inn. She quickly turned in the opposite direction and entered the alchemy and enchanting shop.

While she browsed, Morgana counted the minutes to determine when it could be safe to exit. Why had she stood there for so long staring? He is a blacksmith and was simply working on forging something, maybe a sword. She had walked past many other smith shops in her travels, and not once did she stop and gawk. Her conclusion was that she is distracted and still out of her routine. Not traveling for a few days and getting a contract set up will put everything back in order. Once it felt like she had dawdled long enough in the shop, she bought a couple things to be polite and made her way to the exit.

The moment she stepped through the door, she heard a male voice to her right, "Took you long enough in there. I thought you were going to hide in there all day!" His voice was deep, but it had a softness to its tone and a good amount of humor.

It was enough to startle Morgana out of her thoughts, and she dropped the items she had been holding. In a panic to regain her composure, she reached out and caught the books, but could not get the alchemy bottles. She flinched at the expected breaking of glass, but it didn’t come. The man that spoke to her had been able to catch the bottles and held them firmly.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to give you a fright.”

“I’m fine,” Morgana straightened the books in her arms and turned to look directly at the man.

It figured, there in front of her was the Nord blacksmith she saw in the inn the previous night. The name she remembered his friend calling him was Harek. He was still shirtless, sweaty, and she stood eye level with his broad chest. She couldn’t help but look at the toned body before her, but quickly snapped her head up to look him in the eye. He looked down at her with a smile, and his bright blue eyes brightened when he laughed. He took a step closer to her and closed the distance between them with his long stride.

“Aye, I’m sure you are, but you might want to be careful with these,” He lifted his hands that still held the alchemy bottles. “Wouldn’t want them to break.”

“Yes, thank you for catching them. May I have them back?”

Morgana could feel her heart as it raced in her chest. He was close enough that she had to strain to look up at him, or her face would be inches from his chest. She could smell the forge, sweat, leather, and the lingering smell of fresh hay on him. He was distracting her, and she would have none of it, so she took a step backward.

He smirked, “How about I carry them for you? Were you going back to the Lonely Troll or going to do more shopping?”

“That is my business,” She looked up at him and frowned.

“I’ll happily carry them for you,” He ignored her frown and kept smiling, “and I’ll even carry those books.”

“I don’t need your help,” Morgana held out a hand for the bottles. “The potions...”

Harek raised the items out of her reach in one hand, “Aye, I’ll give them back since you won’t let me carry them for you, but… for a small price.” His eyes glittered with amusement.

Morgana battled her frustration and the reflex to jump up and try to grab the potions. He was teasing her, she knew, and she was losing patience. She crossed her arms around the books and scowled up at him, which made him laugh even more.

“Just your name, that’s the price.”

She couldn’t believe it, he was holding her potions hostage just to try and get her name since she denied him the opportunity to walk with her anywhere. In her opinion, he was acting childish and rude, but then why did she feel the desire to smile? His laugh was contagious, she could feel it working on her against her will.

Morgana continued to scowl and turned on her heels. “Hold them up there all day then,” She called over her shoulder and heard him laugh, loud and deep, behind her.

Her first stop was to drop off the books to her room at the inn, and then she contemplated staying in there for the rest of the day. If she did that, though, there was a chance that he would then know that he had gotten her flustered. It made no sense to her why! She had traveled to the other side of Tamriel and had never had a problem of becoming distracted because of a man. When was she going to be able to get some peace? Morgana paced the length of her room, debating her choices, and then made the decision to visit the stables instead of seeing the rest of town today.

After she looked to see if the coast was clear, Morgana walked briskly to and through the now open gate. Guards observed her but said nothing, her hope was that they saw her leave the Lonely Troll. The sun was bright in the cheerful blue sky, and Drogon nickered to her when she rounded the corner to the stables. A fast ride in the beautiful weather is what she needed to clear her head again.

They rode swiftly down the road from the night before, stopped to view the Dragonbridge, and turned to follow the river. Her thoughts and worries blew away with the wind, and she felt free once again. She could see the harbor in the distance and rode near enough to loop back to the stables. The speed and wind loosened curls from their pins, but it didn't matter as she rode. Quicker than she had hoped, they reached the stables again. Next time she vowed, they would go off and explore farther.

As they rounded the corner, leaving the road, the smile faded from her face, and she brought the gelding to a sudden halt. The horse fidgeted and stomped his feet, sensing his person's discomfort. There at the horse stalls hauling hay, and laughing with the stablehand was Harek.

Not again...


	12. Betrayed... by a Horse

It was too late to turn around, the two men had heard her ride up and turned to look in her direction. An amused grin formed on Harek’s face, and he finished tossing the pile of hay. Morgana resisted the urge to flee, instead steeled herself and maintained a straight posture. She turned the horse and guided him towards his stall. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Harek leaning on the pitchfork observing her and chuckling with the stablehand over something, at her expense, she was sure.

At the door of the stall, Morgana dismounted, led Drogon inside, and began to untack. She made a point not to look over in the direction where the Nords were standing and chatting. Why did he have to be at the stables? He wasn’t there when she rode off earlier. His presence at the stables explained why she could smell fresh hay on him that morning. So he clearly worked at the blacksmith AND at the stables. Now her one place to get away from everything was compromised!

In her frustration, she swung the saddle over to put it on top of the stall door, not looking, and instead, she collided with something that was not the wooden door. The wind was knocked out of her when the saddle was pushed back into her abdomen, and she felt herself become unbalanced at the same time she heard a deep groan. She felt herself fall backward, but a hand grabbed her and brought her upright.

Morgana snapped to attention and frowned the moment she saw what, or who, was standing in her way. What she had bumped into was, in fact, Harek, who had let himself into her horse's stall while she was not allowing herself to look that way. His one hand rubbed his stomach, which was thankfully covered by a shirt, and the other gripped her upper arm. The groan she heard must have been him when she rammed the saddle into him. Served him right, she thought. So he had knocked her over, caught her, and helped her stand upright again. But she wouldn’t have fallen if he didn’t insist on being in her way.

“So, this is your horse?" He grinned broadly down at her and then looked past her to the horse. “An impressive one for sure! What’s his name?”

“Drogon.” She answered before she could stop herself.

“Drogon,” Harek took his one hand from his abdomen to stroke the gelding's face. "Hey, boy…" The Nord continued to mindlessly talk to the horse for a moment.

Don’t like him, please don’t like him, Morgana thought to herself, but she was betrayed. The horse gladly accepted the attention and solicited more, leaning into the petting and scratching. Damn it.

“I was wondering where he came from since I didn’t see him yesterday, but of course you got in sort of late last night.” He tilted his head slightly to glance at her and gave her a quick wink.

She shifted the saddle in her arms and, at that time, noticed his hand was still resting on her arm; it took up most of her upper arm, but his grip was loose. Suddenly, and uncomfortable with the realization, she shook his hand off and stepped around him to the door. Then keeping her distance, she placed the saddle on a rack and then returned to the stall to remove the rest of the tack.

Harek stood there, the bridle slung over one broad shoulder, and he was brushing down her horse. While he worked, she watched his hands move smoothly and efficiently, but still gentle. He kept his focus on the task, so he didn't catch her staring, and was whispering to Drogon. The gelding tilted his ears to listen while he curved his nose around to search Harek’s pockets for treats. She watched the muscles in Harek’s arms, and shoulders flex with every stroke.

By the Eight, what is wrong with me?! "I can do that myself." Morgana snapped, strode over, and deftly snatched the brush out of Harek’s hand. Her hands went to her hips, and she stood as straight as possible.

He laughed at her defiant display, “I didn’t say you couldn’t.”

She held out her empty hand, "Hand me the bridle, and I will take care of it."

“For a price,” Harek crossed his arms over his chest and laughed some more at the shocked and frustrated look she gave him. “Same price as before. You’ll find I can be quite stubborn.”

“It’s none of your business!” Her frustration was getting the better of her, and she knew he was finding it amusing. She brushed her hair away with her fingers and groaned, no longer concerned about keeping a calm facade.

“On the contrary, now it is.” His smile lit up, "You see, I work here at the stables in the afternoon, and I need to know the owner's name as well as the horse's."

She let out an annoyed groan and threw her hands out to the side, “Fine! It’s Morgana.”

"Such a strong and beautiful name it matches you perfectly." He leaned casually against the sidewall.

Morgana stood there, shocked, the brush still in her hand, and the mix of emotions played out within her. She knew he had been teasing her, and now he was attempting to flirt? How dare… All she wanted was to be left alone with her horse! The need to get out was rising, but to do that, she would have to walk between him and her horse, who had found his hay more interesting after the brushing stopped. So she opted for a distraction and hoped it would work.

In a quick movement, she hurled the brush at Harek in frustration and stepped into the space between him and Drogon, then only a couple steps away from the stall door. Her plan didn't account for the free-thinking creature, and the gelding took that moment to shift sideways, bump into her, and push her against the leaning Nord. Harek caught the brush that had been aimed at his face, and a split second later caught Morgana against him, his arm wrapped around her.

Her breath caught the moment she felt herself hit Harek, their eyes locked at that moment, and her heart began to race. All thoughts she had of escape disappeared as she looked up into his blue eyes. The color intensified the longer they stood together. Under her hands, she could feel the muscles of his chest and those of his arm holding her in place, she felt strangely secure. She could feel the heat rising within her and her face flushing as she came to realize the position they were currently in. Harek gently pressed her closer and brought his face closer to hers. In a flash, she panicked. Swiftly she pushed herself away from him, grabbed the bridle off his shoulder, and hung it up as she rushed out of the stall and away from the stables. Harek was left in the stall bewildered, with a smirk, and chuckling to himself.

Once she was around the corner and out of sight of the stables, she broke out into a run. She closed the distance between her and the Lonely Troll quickly—the exertion hiding the true reason for her flushed face. The guards watched her and shrugged as she jogged past, her hope was that they thought she went outside for some exercise. She didn't stop until the door closed behind her, and she stood in her rented room at the inn. With her back against the door, Morgana tried to catch her breath and slow her rapidly beating heart.

A soft knock sounded on her door, followed by a woman's voice, "Miss, Argildur stopped by for lunch after you left…”

Morgana stepped away from the door and politely opened it to see the barkeeper from this morning.

“I gave him your note, and he left this one in reply.” The woman finished.

"Thank you." Morgana took the folded piece of parchment, and the woman turned around to leave. She closed the door and locked it before opening the note.

_Fredas._

_At the Troll._

_After the last call, I will find you at the bar._

Fredas? That was three days away! What was she supposed to do until then? More importantly, how would she avoid Harek. Well, she would have to avoid the smithy and, she dreaded the thought, the stables. She could read, she did have new books after all, and… The thought of the books reminded her, her potions! He still had them! Damn him… The last thing she wanted to do was track him down to get them back, and she didn’t really need them immediately. She was too wound up to deal with it now.

She walked over to the small mirror above the washbasin and worked on pinning her hair back in place. Her hands were busy taming the curls, but her mind wandered back to the stall. The feel of his chest and heartbeat under her hands, the beautiful blue of his eyes, his body against hers… Damn it! In the mirror's reflection, she saw her cheeks were flushed again. That damn Nord had gotten into her head! At least he had made her think about something else besides what happened in Black Marsh, but now she was thinking of that again.

Morgana had never felt so out of control within her own mind, not in many years. She was always careful, always diligent, and learned to live her life independently. The two weeks of travel it had taken to get to Solitude from Stormhold kept her focused on the road and the dangers surrounding it. She chose to travel alone the whole way to lessen the chance of her mind wandering and finding herself in a precarious situation or divulging too much information with travel companions. Divines forbid the group gets attacked, and she would have to use her magic in defense. No, it was better to travel alone.

Her stomach growled, and she looked out the window at the sun to check the time. It seemed to be about supper time, but hopefully early enough for the regulars to not have arrived yet. She looked one more time in the mirror, and this time was satisfied with her calm exterior. Morgana unlatched the door, took a deep breath, and swung it open to see Harek poised to knock with a smile.

His smile broadened, “How’s that for timing?”

Every fiber of her being was yelling at her to slam the door and lock it, every fiber except one. The one part of her that wouldn’t let her close the door was staring blankly at the Nord in front of her, frozen by his eyes and his smile. He knew which room was hers, and even if he just guessed, she confirmed it when she opened the door. That was it, there was nowhere for her to go during her stay. The only choice she had left was to stay locked in her room until she met with Argildur, and then she would have to find a way to leave right after. What if he told her she was needed in Solitude? She wasn’t sure what she would do…

“What are you doing?”

Harek lowered his hand, “I was going to ask you to join me downstairs for dinner.”

“Why?” Her tone was a bit icy, but he didn’t appear to be phased.

“Why?” He chuckled, “Why wouldn’t I ask a beautiful woman that I just met to dinner in hopes of getting to know her?”

Before she could help herself, “What if she just wants to be left alone?”

“If that's what you really want, then so be it. But I'm not so sure it is.”

“What makes you so confident that I’ll agree?”

Harek laughed, “I will return your potions to you tomorrow if you have dinner with me.”

“So, you’re trying to bribe me again.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Yes." He leaned closer to reach behind her and close the door. She could smell the combination of hay, leather, and even a hint of the forest on him. When he was close to her ear, he whispered, "You're even more beautiful when you're being stubborn."

Morgana's heart skipped, and it took everything she had not to tremble when she felt his breath against her neck. Before she could recover herself, Harek smiled, turned, and chuckled as he walked away and down the stairs.

As she stood there outside her door, she could hear Harek’s laughter downstairs and groaned. The last thing she wanted was to sit in close proximity to this attractive… this man who had been annoying her all day, especially when he clearly stated that he wanted to get to know her. This could be the easiest way to get the potions she purchased back, but she didn’t really need them in the first place. There was also the chance that he would decide that he wouldn’t want to see her again, but she had a feeling he was just as stubborn as her.

“By the Eight….What am I doing?” She asked herself aloud and walked down the stairs.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs and entered the main hall, she spotted Harek on the far side at a smaller table set for two. At least his friends aren’t hovering. At that thought, she glanced around just to make sure they, in fact, were not there and was relieved when her search came up with nothing. The hall wasn't too crowded yet, so it was easy enough for him to spot her walking towards the table.

Harek stood from his seat as she approached, "Ah, see, I knew you couldn't resist." In one step, he moved to the other side of the table and pulled out her chair for her.

“You don’t need to do that.” Morgana stayed standing. Harek just shrugged, still with a smile, and went back to his seat. Why did this man smile all the time?

He signaled to the barkeep while he waited for her to sit. "But, I wanted to."

With a sigh, she sat down in the empty seat across from him. One of the servers was at their table to find out what they wanted to eat, Harek let Morgana select her food first. He gave them strict orders that this was to be put on his tab and ignored any and all protests. The fact that the server was a younger Nord that seemed to know Harek worked against her argument.

“Now that we’re here,” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “I’m Harek, Harek Ragnarsson, but you probably already knew my first name from my friend last night.”

“Yes, how is your friend’s foot that you dropped the hammer on?” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.

“He will be fine, that short of a drop wasn’t enough to break anything. You’re avoiding the point here of introductions.”

This time it was her turn to smirk, “Oh, but you already got my name earlier.”

The server brought over their drinks and sat them down on the table, Harek grabbed his and took a drink.

He smiled, “Fine, keep your secrets.” Morgana stiffened. “You’re a Breton, judging by your accent…. from the Daggerfall area and sitting at a table inside an inn in Solitude. For some mysterious reason, I'm guessing you won't divulge."

“Correct.”

“Well then, let us enjoy our drinks, our food, and talk about other things." He took another drink, "So, does that horse of yours like to run?"

The turn of the conversation took her off guard. She had been preparing herself to avoid or redirect all of his questions. Then he just accepted that she wasn't going to tell him anything and changed the conversation himself. Her shock must have been written on her face because he started laughing again.

Morgana took a sip from her drink before answering, “Yes, he thinks running is the best thing in the world next to treats.”

"If you're free tomorrow morning, we can go for a ride, and I'll show you around."

The server returned with their food, and Morgana took the opportunity to avoid the invitation. She ate her food slowly in case of the needed opportunity to avoid more replies. Each time she glanced up from her food, she saw him watching her with that darn amused smirk of his. Harek didn’t push the conversation while they ate, and she was sure that he knew her plan. It was confirmed that he did once the food was gone, and he ordered another drink.

“So, what do you say about going for that ride tomorrow?"

She took another drink from her cup, “Something tells me that you won’t take no for an answer.”

“Ha ha, you’re catching on.” He leaned on the table again, “I told you I was stubborn.”

“You did,” Morgana drank the last of her drink and stood up from the table. “But I haven’t agreed.”

On that note, she briskly walked away from the table. Her head was spinning and began to ache, she felt warm and a bit dizzy. She scolded herself for going along with the conversation and told herself that she would not give in to him. In a couple days, she should be gone from this city, away from Harek, and on the road again. The stairs creaked as she jogged up them, and it wasn't until she reached her door that she heard heavier footsteps coming up behind her.

Morgana opened the door and felt the chill run down her spine.


	13. Stubborn Nord

No.... No, no, no, no!

Morgana heard the footsteps coming closer. As quick as she could, she stepped through into the room and closed the door behind her, throwing the lock in place. She turned and braced her back against the door. A spectral form shimmered as it tried to take shape in the center of the space. The room in front of her was shifting; outside her window, the stars in the night sky brightened until she was forced to close her eyes.

When she opened them again, the light was bearable, but she had to squint. She was no longer viewing her room at the inn. A stone ceiling was above her, and she could feel cold stone beneath her, the familiar cessation of chains around her wrists and ankles was there as well. If she turned her head to the side, she could see an empty torture rack and tables with utensils. In the other direction, she could see a hooded figure silhouetted by a golden glow. There must be something on the table in front of them, or they were using magic.

“The subject is awake.” Her head snapped back in the previous direction to see a second hooded person.

“Good, the blades are ready, _blessed_ with the Mistress’s light.”

The first figure moved away from the table, and she saw a dagger in their hand, but this dagger was glowing with some sort of light. She assumed they had to be enchanted somehow but had no idea what. She began to struggle against her bonds, a pathetic and pointless attempt.

“Hold the subject down!” The second person and a third appeared, each taking position to hold her still.

She tried to fight harder, “No!”

All she could see under the hood was a smug, confident grin in the glow of the dagger. "The light will rid you of the darkness that lives inside of you."

One swift motion brought the dagger down and into her thigh. The enchantment glowed brighter and burned with white-hot intensity. Before she could scream, a cloth was stuffed into her open mouth, quieting any sound that escaped. Another dagger followed into the other thigh. Both plunged into the flesh to the hilt and radiating light. The glow worked its way up through her limbs like a poison, burning as it went. Blood flowed from the wounds and down the sides of her bare legs to pool under her.

Her screams were pointless, but she couldn't keep herself from doing it. Tears rolled down her face freely. The hooded figures no longer held her down, and through blurry eyes, she could see they had backed away. The burning continued.

__________

Harek's original plan was to follow Morgana up the stairs to wish her a good night since she'd run off, but something was off when he reached the door. The temperature around her room was cold, and the goosebumps he felt were not from that, he was sure. He tried to knock, no answer. He tried to open the door, locked. Then he could hear muffled sounds coming from inside. He put his ear to the door to listen with growing concern. The sounds he heard were screams, but it was if someone was trying to scream through a pillow.

Downstairs the crowd had thickened, and he was sure the noise would overpower what he was about to do.

__________

Against the searing poisonous light, she closed her eyes, unable to scream any longer. She began to cry and whimper against the gag. She could feel her consciousness fading and the pain receding, her body growing cold. This is what it felt like to die…

A loud crash made her open her eyes. She was on a wooden floor on her hands and knees, not laying on the stone slab. Her breathing was ragged, and she could feel tears still fresh on her cheeks. In front of her, she saw a pair of bare, luminous feet and looked up to the ghostly face of a Bosmer woman. Throughout the woman's form, Morgana could see the spidery path of light, glowing ever so faintly. They stared at each other for a moment before the woman spoke.

“Beware the beacon of light. It will find you in the blackest night and purify you in its fire.”

Before Morgana could ask any questions, a sound behind her broke the soul's gaze on her. The woman looked up and vanished suddenly, the room was left silent. Only the light of the stars and moon outside gave any source of light. She was shaking and felt paralyzed in her current position on the floor, staring where the ghost once stood. The faint, phantom whisper of the pain was slowly disappearing.

Footsteps came closer to her, but she couldn’t move and didn’t dare. The floor creaked from the weight of someone sitting or kneeling beside her, and she felt strong arms pull her into an embrace. She could smell the same aroma of hay, leather, forest, and knew then it was Harek. The warmth of his body seeped into her as they sat together on the floor. Her breathing began to steady, and the sensation from the burning was only a memory.

The realization hit Morgana like a punch to the gut, and she stiffened. She was sitting almost in Harek's lap with his arms around her, his large frame almost enveloping her. He was in her room uninvited. She glanced over to the door and saw it hanging slightly open with the lock and latch broken. That had to be the noise she heard that broke the vision. He saw the ghost! He saw her coming out of the vision! Morgana lunged out of his arms, scrambled to her feet, and stepped backward toward the opposite wall.

"What are you doing here?" Her eyes were wide, frantic, and her breathing was rapid.

Harek made himself more comfortable on the floor, and instead of his usual smile, his features softened with concern. "Why? I followed you up the stairs to say good night and heard screams coming from the other side of your door. Muffled screams of pain… I wasn't taking any chances."

"As you can see, I'm fine…”

"No, that is not what I see." He seemed to make up his mind about something, stood up, closed the door the best he could, walked over to the bed, and sat down. He swung his legs up onto the bed after kicking off his boots and sat with his back against the wall in the same movement. "Come here and lay down with me. I am not going to ask you about what happened or try to take advantage of you, so just relax."

She stared at him and tried to process what he said.

A moment passed, and Morgana finally walked to the bed. She was beyond exhausted to argue and protest, and part of her wanted the comfort of his arms around her. Harek smiled reassuringly and held his hand out to her. She put her hand in his and let him guide her closer and onto the bed to lay beside him. Her head rested on his chest, and she closed her eyes.

Harek reached out to the stack of books on the side table, selected one, and opened it on his lap. To Morgana’s surprise, he secured an arm around her and began to read from where she remembered leaving off. No one had read to her since she was a small child. With the sounds of Harek reading and the steady beat of his heart, she fell into a calm, deep sleep.

Morgana woke the next morning and found that she was alone in her bed, still in her clothes from last night. Harek, and his boots, were gone and the door was closed. One of her first feeling was that of disappointment and then followed by relief. Her book was back on the table next to the bed, and she caught a glimpse of parchment sticking out of it.

She slid it out slowly and then unfolded it…

_Morning beautiful,_

_I left in the early hours of the morning when everyone was still asleep, figured you wouldn’t want anyone seeing me come out of your room. Before I left, I was able to fix the door so no one will know of that either. Relax and enjoy your morning._

_Meet me at the stables before lunch_.

Why did he want to see her again? The event from last night played over in her head, and how Harek had stayed with her. He didn't ask questions. He didn't run. He stayed with her and read her to sleep. She stood from the bed and paced the floor as she thought, the warring emotions and thoughts clashed within her mind.

Three hauntings and messages, technically four but that one was different from the others. It was clear that the ghosts were not attached to Morrowind or Black Marsh. They were finding her. No matter where she ran, they would follow. Three people now knew of her connection to lost souls. Three, and that was three more than she wanted. Not to mention two out of the three also know that she has necromancy powers. Then this man, Harek, wanted to spend more time with her even though he clearly witnessed a ghost in her room. Why? That question was something she couldn't answer, her mind could not come up with or comprehend a reason. The more time he spent around her, the higher the chance he would find out more, and she didn't want more people knowing. The fates must be laughing at her, toying with her.

One thing she did know was that she needed to visit the Mages Guild and send a raven. She hadn't sent a letter since Mournhold, and she had more information that she needed help figuring out. It took her the better part of an hour to write the letter, clean up, change, and make herself presentable. Then she made her way downstairs and out the door.

She walked briskly past the market and hugged the area where she wouldn't be seen from above. When she went through the arch, she slowed down to get a better look at the town around her. The buildings looked bigger on this side, and when she rounded the corner, she saw down at the end of the road, the Blue Palace. From what she could see above the wall, it must be quite grand. The city itself made up of stone reminded her of the large cities in High Rock, but the Nords' construction and design were altogether different. She was finding that she liked the style of Solitude more. Her walk had slowed to a leisurely pace as she looked around. She could see a sign for the Bard's College coming up on her left, and an unknown sign on the building after that, and then the Mages Guild further down on the right.

People walked about doing their own errands and paid her no mind other than the occasional glance. She figured it had to be just the usual stares; she was still a stranger. Some of the guards on patrol watched her for a few seconds before their paths diverged, but nothing more.

A door opened and shut at one of the houses when she walked past but didn't pay attention until she heard her name called "Morgana!"

Morgana turned towards the voice and saw Harek walk away from the street level door of a large stone house and towards her. His long strides closed the distance quickly.

“Where are you off to?” He questioned, then added with a chuckle, “The stables are the other way.”

She crossed her arms to tuck the parchment out of sight, “I have an errand to do at the Mages Guild,” and she started walking in that direction.

He fell into step next to her, “Then I will walk with you.”

With a shrug, Morgana walked the rest of the way without a word, and Harek just whistled. They walked up the steps, and he took two at a time to reach the top before her.

“I’ll wait for you outside,” He swung the door open when she reached the top of the steps. “Wouldn’t want you running off before our ride.”

Morgana rolled her eyes and didn't reply; instead, she simply entered. Inside she was able to inquire about the use of a raven. The woman she spoke to explained that the birds liked to hang out on the ramparts, and one would come when they whistled. She demonstrated the whistle, and Morgana repeated it to be sure. With a quick thanks, she went back outside, passed Harek who was leaning on the wall, and around the corner of the building. Sure enough, if she looked up, a handful of ravens sat perched on the top of the wall.

She whistled as the mage instructed, and after a bit of discussion between themselves, one glided down. Morgana held out her forearm, and the graceful bird landed on the provided perch.

“The beautiful Death-fire is in need of our services?”

“Yes, please,” She held up the parchment. “To Miareth.”

The raven reached out and took the provided letter with one of its feet. “Always a pleasure,” Then it took off and flew over the wall.

“Huh, I didn’t know that the Mages Guild had ravens.”

The sound of Harek's voice made her turn around quickly, and she saw that he had followed her around the side of the building but kept his distance. She was glad that it was already a habit to keep her voice down when speaking with the ravens and hoped he didn't hear the name she mentioned or the name the bird had called her.

“Yes, they are faster and smarter than the average courier.”

"Interesting." He gestured to the stairs, "Any other errands, or can we go for that ride?"

She raised her eyebrow, “If I said I had a few more things to do, would you believe me?" Her question made Harek laugh.

“Maybe, maybe not.” He shrugged and then smiled broadly. “You know I’m not going to stop asking…”

“Fine,” She crossed her arms. “One quick ride.”

Their walk to the stables consisted mostly of Harek telling her stories about people or buildings they passed, some of them historical while others were supposed to be funny. Morgana listened more intently at the historical references and just rolled her eyes at the others. A handful of people waved to Harek as they passed by, he would wave back but continue with what he was saying without skipping a beat. Others stared apprehensively at her and the fact that someone they knew well was walking with her. It must be an unusual sight, the tallest and possibly strongest Nord she laid eyes on so far in Solitude, with his dark hair and blue eyes, walking next to a Breton woman whose head barely reached his shoulders, with fiery red hair and bright green eyes. She could see the looks and pointedly ignored them, but Harek didn’t seem to take any notice at the strange looks they were getting.

When they made it to the stables, Drogon greeted Morgana and pranced happily in his stall. The stablehand that was working stopped what he was doing and waved to Harek, who walked over to chat. She took the chance to go directly to her horse and give him attention before tacking. As she grabbed her tack, she noticed that it had been cleaned and oiled since the last time she used it the day before. She had an idea who had a hand in that getting done.

Harek had wandered off, which was a relief for her, she could tend her horse in peace. Though when she entered the stall with her tack, she remembered the feeling of being pressed close to him, his eyes, and the heat building between them. She groaned, shook her head, and swung the saddle into place. There was no need to think about what had happened or what didn’t happen, it was all a distraction. He was a distraction. She finished getting Drogon ready, making sure that she focused only on the task at hand.

“Ready?” Harek stopped next to her horse’s stall, leading a stocky dapple gray mare.

Morgana led the gelding out of the stall and mounted, “Are you?”

With a chuckle, Harek turned and mounted his horse as well. On top of their horses, Morgana was actually at eye level with Harek. Drogon bounced impatiently, waiting for the go-ahead.

Harek turned to her, "I'm guessing you know the way to Dragonbridge?" She nodded, and he urged the mare forward, she followed shortly after.

They walked to the main road, and Harek turned his horse around so he could look back at Morgana. "Since you know the way…" He smirked just before spurring his horse, "Let's see who can get there first!" The horse took off at a gallop.

She smirked and leaned down over Drogon’s neck, “Should we give them a head start boy?” His reply of barely contained excitement and the inability to stand still was enough for her. He didn’t need any encouragement, just permission, and once she gave it, they were off.

It was only a few seconds later that Morgana spotted Harek, and the distance was closing. She leaned forward, and Drogon extended his strides, and a couple seconds later, they were galloping past. The mare pinned her ears as they went by, and Harek laughed long and deep. Her horse didn't slow, and she could just hear the other horse behind them. This is what they lived for, to ride the wind and be free. To leave worries behind. Morgana truly smiled and saw the bridge coming up in the distance.

They reached the center of the bridge after some quick maneuvers to avoid townsfolk and turned to see Harek with his mare riding through the upset crowd. He was laughing the entire way, his eyes locked on hers. She could feel that she was still smiling as he rode up to her.

"Well, that was exhilarating!" He stopped his horse next to hers and gave her a wink, "You weren't kidding about your horse loving to run."

She realized what he did, and normally it would have aggravated her but not this time when the excitement was still fresh. "You knew you would lose, and you still got us to race."

“I got to see that gorgeous smile of yours, and I would do it all over again in a heartbeat.” His eyes locked onto hers.

The intensity of his gaze and that single sentence she could feel her heart skip. They stared at each other for a long moment, until someone from the town needed to get by. Each of them moved their horses to the side to provide space between them to pass.

Harek gave a short laugh, “We should probably stop blocking the bridge and continue the tour.” Morgana nodded in reply.

They rode together at varying speeds following the road, Harek played the part of guide again. He pointed out ruins, areas to avoid, and which direction led to which town. The loop he took her on had them pass through Karthwatch, and then Morgana recognized the road they met as the one she rode in. She didn't say much, and he didn't press, but they both caught each other periodically watching the other. Though the smile she had after the race was gone, a smaller one still lingered, and of course, Harek smiled and laughed often.

Once they could see Solitude in the distance, Morgana had to ask, “Didn’t you have something important to do today? Somewhere you had to be?”

Harek shrugged, "Maybe." This made her frown, the annoyance at herself must have been written all over her face. With a smile, he continued, "If something good comes into your life unexpectedly, you should hold onto it until it is time to let go. I’ve already decided that it’s not time.”


	14. Departure

After the ride, Harek did reluctantly admit that he had things waiting for him that were pushed back and that he would call on her as soon as he could. Morgana was relieved that she would at least have the evening to herself. She was exhausted from the past couple of days and took her meals in her room at the inn. This gave her time to think or overthink everything that had happened over the past month. The life she was living had not just been turned upside down, it was threatening to spin out of control.

Her moment of fun had to be over, she decided. It was apparent that she had to be careful and cautious or lose what security and control she still had. If she wasn't careful, she might go past a point of no return, and she didn’t want to think about what could happen after that, or if Harek found out what she was. That realization terrified her for multiple reasons.

Luck was on her side the next morning when one of the servers brought her breakfast to her room, there was a note left with it, a note from Harek. He was occupied for the majority of the day but hoped that he could get free in time to see her that evening. She hoped that the sudden stroke of luck would cover that day, the next day, and would include the meeting scheduled with Argildur. It would be much easier to maintain her secrecy and composure if she was left alone and without constant distractions. She stretched out on her bed and took the opportunity to spend the day reading.

Fredas finally came. To her relief, she had been left to her own devices for the entire day prior and was even undisturbed through breakfast. She should have been more relieved, but she wasn't. Tonight was her meeting, and it had her on edge, more so than the meeting with Selaer as she had no idea who this Argildur person was. While she paced, taking deep breaths, and fidgeted with her appearance, a whistle came from her window.

She turned to see a raven sitting on the sill and walked over quickly to open the pane. “Greetings.”

“Morning Miss Death-fire, a letter from Miareth," The raven stretched out its leg with a roll of parchment clasped in its foot.

Morgana took the letter, “Thank you.” The raven bowed deeply and then took flight, leaving her standing in front of her open window.

She unrolled the paper…

_ I have only ever heard of a couple of others who can do what you have described, it is not an ordinary gift. With that said, there is not much I can do to help you understand that connection, but I will send a letter straight away to someone that can. Maybe one of the Mages Guilds will have some reference? _

_ Wait for a letter from me and, in the meantime, be careful. _

The letter, though prompt, wasn’t as helpful as she had hoped, but there was still hope that someone could give her some guidance. This didn't help alleviate some of the pressure she was feeling. She started to feel claustrophobic in her room at the inn and decided to go to the Mages Guild to begin her search. Maybe it would help her feel better if she could find some information about why she was getting ghost visitors.

Outside it was overcast, and some of the clouds looked dark enough to hint at possible rain, and the wind was brisk. Morgana wore her cloak and kept the hood up to cover her hair, she wasn't the only redhead in Solitude, but it still stood out in a crowd. If she hoped to keep herself from being distracted, she wanted to make sure she didn't attract anyone's attention. It must have worked because she made it all the way to the guild without incident.

She was greeted by the mage she spoke to about the ravens and then left alone to wander the shelves. It took her a couple minutes to figure out the organizational scheme, which was not the most logical, but not all mages worked logically. A few books caught her attention, and she sat down at one of the tables and began to read.

The hours passed, and Morgana read every book with information and scanned even more for any bit of information that could lead her somewhere. No matter how much she searched the books, she found nothing that could be of any help, and there was no way she would inquire about other texts. The suspicion that would arise if she began asking questions about ghosts, souls and any other connection to the dead or undead would be disastrous. Before she gave herself a headache, she decided to put everything away and start heading back to the inn.

Outside it was getting dark to signal the start of the evening and then even darker still with a coming storm. The wind had picked up, and it had the smell of rain, Morgana quickened her pace. As she walked back along the main road in the distance, she saw him as he leaned against the side of the house he’d come out of a couple days ago. Harek was talking with someone, and Morgana didn’t linger long enough to see. Her hope was to get to the other path she noticed that went along the wall before he spotted her. Even though she was wearing her cloak, she didn’t think it was enough and hurried her way onto the other road.

"Hey, Morgana, wait up!" She knew it, she absolutely knew it would happen. With a groan, she turned around, and sure enough, Harek was jogging towards her.

When he caught up to her, he asked, "Are you headed back for dinner?"

“Yes.”

Dark clouds rolled in quickly overhead, and thunder rolled overhead, the rain started to fall rapidly in big heavy droplets. Harek took Morgana's hand and, at a run, led her to a tower. The entrance was preceded by an overhang that would provide cover. They couldn't outrun the rain and reached the shelter drenched, Morgana was thankful only her cloak was wet. She looked around and saw that what she thought was the tower entrance was actually a door with a faint but familiar symbol carved into it. She made a mental note of that for later.

Harek stood looking out into the rain, “Well it will be a few minutes before it lets up enough to go back out,” Then he turned around to look at Morgana. “What is it with you and rain?”

She scowled, crossed her arms, and leaned against the stone wall, “I would’ve been closer to the inn if I didn’t stop to wait for you, and it’s not like I enjoy getting stuck in the rain.” Her response made Harek laugh.

"Well, since we're here, how have you been?" He walked closer to stand in front of her.

“Fine.”

“What did you do all yesterday? I didn’t see you out and about at all, so I’m going to guess…. You stayed in your room and probably read that entire stack of books I saw in there.”

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. What does it matter?” She was annoyed and let it come out in her tone. What made him so confident that he knew what she did in her free time, just because she had a selection of books in her room? It was none of his business anyway.

Harek laughed and stepped closer, “Maybe I want to make sure you’re ok and are not too bored without me.” Confidently he closed the distance, keeping his eyes locked with hers. “I know I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Morgana had to look almost straight up when Harek stood in front of her. She became entranced by his eyes and the huskiness in his voice. Her heart was pounding, and her breath caught in her chest. He took one last half step closer, and their bodies were within inches of each other. Her first reaction was to put her hands on his chest to push him away, but instead, they rested there. Under her palms, she felt the beating of his heart and the change in his breathing.

Before she could change her mind, Harek brought his arms around her, pulled her body close, and his lips met hers. At first, she was shocked and got ready to push him away, but her body won over her mind. She melted into the kiss, her hands grabbed firmly onto his shirt. Feeling the reluctance fade from her body, Harek lifted her off the ground, holding her in his arms, so their necks were no longer craned. Morgana let go of his shirt and wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders. Her head was swimming, but all she could focus on was the kiss, the way she felt, and the sound of the rain around them.

No one had ever gotten this close to her, no one had ever kissed her, and certainly never made her feel the way she did right at that moment. The things she was feeling terrified her, but when she was held by Harek, she wasn't scared. It was only when the kissing ended that her mind found its opening. They stopped and stared into each other's eyes, Harek with a sweet, lopsided grin.

It felt like the stone all around them was caving in, and Morgana felt the threat of tears, "I… I need to go." She slipped from Harek’s hold; once her feet touched the ground, her hood was back up, and she was running to the Lonely Troll.

She skipped dinner and stayed shut in her room, listening for the sounds of last call. It took everything to think about the meeting she was waiting for and not the kiss, but she failed over and over again. Harek... His arms around her, his smile, his laugh, his lips on hers. The sounds from downstairs changed, interrupting her thoughts, and she heard the barkeeper’s booming voice announce the last call. Finally.

Morgana walked quietly down the stairs, taking a deep breath with each step. The patrons were filling out while a few still lingered, finishing the last of their drinks. She was grateful that she didn't see Harek in the room. If she faced him now, she would break. With a shake of her head, she walked over and took a seat at the now empty bar. Behind it was a Nord, she hadn't seen tending the bar yet that week. He wasn't overly tall but just as rugged as the rest. His blonde hair was pulled back into a short ponytail, and he gave her a quick wink when she sat down.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing this time of night?”

She watched him closely, "I'm meeting someone."

"Well, it looks like tonight is your night sweetheart, I'm supposed to be meeting someone too. Now I didn’t expect the person I was supposed to have a chat with to be so beautiful.” He bowed slightly and flourished his cleaning rag, “Argildur Tarbarsson, at your service.”

“You’re Argildur?” She looked at him incredulously.

"Yes, ma'am. Now from your note, you mentioned that you were sent to me by a certain Shadowscale. Now, why would he send you to me? There was something that he couldn't help you with? I've heard that the Shadowscales are quite resourceful.”

“It’s a sensitive matter that is not welcome within the Marsh." She could hear the last of the patrons leaving behind her, and the inn got incredibly quiet.

Argildur waved to one of the nearby tables, “How about we take a seat and continue our chat.” He walked from behind the bar and led her over. "So tell me, sweetheart, what sort of business are you involved in that makes the Shadowscales nervous? Something illegal, I presume?"

Morgana sat down and crossed her arms, “I have a certain connection with the dead. Though it’s not something to bring up in public.” 

He studied her carefully in hopes that she would give something away, she had seen the same look before. "I see." He paused. "I've heard rumors of a group that tries to use their abilities for more noble purposes, or at least do the best they can. So are you looking to put your skills to work?”

She shrugged, “It puts food on the table.”

"Well, I have just the thing in mind…" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a torn piece of parchment. "Someone just sent me a letter a few days ago in search of someone with your talents.”

This information was unsettling when she remembered what the Morag Tong contact said back in Vvardenfell; their contracted necromancer had gone missing. She took the paper that he held out to her and glanced down at it. The Gold Coast? That was on the southern side of Tamriel. Why would someone all the way down there reach out to someone based in Skyrim searching for a necromancer?

“Did they inform you as to why? It seems odd to contact you in Solitude instead of someone closer.” She questioned.

“Not exactly, but rumors tell me that a few of the regions have... misplaced their contracted employees. Or there’s a chance that they no longer wanted to be employed. Who can say for sure?” He gave her a knowing smile, and she figured then that he knew that she left the employment of the Morag Tong recently. The risk was there, but this was the opportunity to get her far away from Solitude.

“Thank you.” She stood from the table, “You can inform them that I will leave as soon as possible.”

Argildur nodded, "I will, and I'm guessing you're familiar with the ravens?"

“Yes.”

“Good, I will keep in touch.” He smiled, and she went back up the stairs to her room.

She decided before she reached the top of the stairs that she would leave at daybreak. That gave her the rest of the night to pack her meager things and get some rest before riding out. The next decision to make was whether or not to leave Harek a note. Against her better judgment, she would. Part of her regretted the decision to leave the city, but it was for the best. Or it’s what she thought was best for her.

__________

Harek strode into the Lonely Troll the next morning, cheerful as always. He had given Morgana space after their impromptu kiss, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it or her. Before their kiss, he told her as much. She was a private person, and there were things he knew that she wasn't ready to say to him. That was ok, he would be patient and wait until she was ready to share her secrets.

He waved to Argildur, who was working that morning, but before he made it too far, the barkeeper called him over. "Morning, Harek, you have a minute?”

"Sure, Argi,” Harek walked over and stood in front of the bar. “What do you need?”

“She’s not up there.” Argildur nodded in the direction of the rooms.

“What do you mean?” Harek stared at the man in disbelief, “She left? When?”

Argildur slid a note across the counter to Harek, “Real early this morning. Sorry friend.” He walked away to finish cooking breakfast.

Harek took a seat and opened the parchment.

_ I was requested for some urgent business, and I don't know when I'll return to Solitude. _

_ I’m sorry. _

_ -M _

He couldn’t believe it, well he could, but that wasn’t enough. The thought of her not coming back, not being able to see her, or hold her in his arms ever again was unbearable. She only left early that morning, which meant that she had only gotten a few hours head start. His mind made up, he rushed out of the inn at a full sprint to his house to pack.

__________

Morgana had left the road and dismounted when Drogon started to act nervous. It reminded her of his behavior on the way to Stormhold, and she knew to trust his instincts. They hid within the thickness of the trees and crept through the brush. As they proceeded, she could hear hushed voices and halted.

On the other side of the road about 50 yards away, she spotted the group and recognized who they were, Reachmen. They were setting up what looked like an ambush, probably for a trading caravan, she thought. She was grateful for the gelding and his senses, for if it wasn't for him, she would have ridden right into the trap. Instead, she hunkered down and waited for their best chance to find a way past them, Drogon stayed close and grazed.

She lost track of how long she watched and waited, and determined that she must have arrived at that section of road the same time they did. They must set up an hour or more before a wagon was scheduled to pass by. Her legs were beginning to cramp from staying crouch for so long, but in the direction she came from, the sound of hoofbeats reached her ears. She carefully turned to look through the trees, and the sight she saw sent her into a panic.

Harek was going to gallop right into the Reachmen’s ambush. She held her breath, time slowed, and Morgana could do nothing to stop what was about to happen.

Harek rode past where she had been hiding, and before she could make her way through the trees and brush, he reached the hiding place of the Reachmen. Not expecting a lone rider, the group was caught off guard, but they recovered quickly and surrounded Harek. Two people took hold of his horse, and the mare struggled in a panic. The Nord had drawn his sword and took down one of the men holding his horse. Another Reachman fell soon after, but there were too many, the number meant for assaulting a wagon.

She broke through the trees when a third man fell and saw one off to the side take aim with his bow. Drawing up her power, she made her choice. She could feel the long-dead buried within the ground and called them to her aid. A wolf skull reached her hand from within the forest, and at the touch of her palm, the blue-black flame encircled it. She sent it flying at the archer with a burst, her heart pounded as she slowly watched the skull fly. The instant the flaming skull collided with the archer time sped up, the arrow was loosed, but it didn't find its mark. Instead, the tip pierced Harek’s bicep, and that brought his attention towards the archer, dead on the road. After a quick yank to remove the arrow, he continued to swing his sword at those enemies closest. Some of the Reachmen nearest the archer were caught unaware and scrambled to figure out where the attack came from.

Morgana took advantage of the confusion, she took control of their dead to fight against them, and from the woods, she brought forth the skeleton of a stag. The stag she called charged at the largest group of Reachmen and, at the last moment, ignited it with her flames, causing it to explode on impact. Distracted by the explosion, the rest didn't see their own rise up and attack until it was too late. Then it was chaos.

At every opportunity, she gathered what skeletons she could while maintaining control over the few dead Reachmen. One of the explosions spooked Hareks mare, and she reared up in fear, tossing the Nord to the ground. He got to his feet quickly and continued the fight until the only Reachmen left standing were under Morgana’s control. Harek stood at the ready but then realized that the two men left standing were not trying to attack. They stood there staring blankly until suddenly they crumpled to the ground with a crunch. He stepped back and looked around in confusion. It was then he finally saw her only a handful of yards away, standing in the middle of the road, blue flames fading in her hands. Her red curls were in disarray, and her clothes had a few small rips, but she was there. 

She was panting, cheeks flushed, and tears ran down her face, but all she could do was wait. The fight ended faster than she could relinquish control over the dead. It was too late. Now he knew. There was no one else, and it wouldn't take a genius to figure out it was her, she was the one that had them under her control. Her tears fell freely for the loss, the pain, the rejection she knew was coming. She couldn’t move as Harek stared at her in disbelief though, in the back of her mind, she wanted to run.

It was Harek that finally broke the silence between them, “Morgana…” His smile was absent.

"Yes, that's my big secret. I'm a necromancer." Her voice cracked, and fresh tears rolled down her face. "I never wished for you to find out, that's why I had to leave...”

“Morgana,” He sheathed his sword and walked quickly over to her. She took a couple steps back away from him, he reached out, took hold of her shoulders, and held her still.

She continued, without hearing what Harek said, "Once people know what I am, it always ends badly! They see the evil within the magic, and they'll see it in me…"

“Morgana,” He shook her shoulders gently until she looked him in the eye. When her tear-filled green eyes met his, he continued, “I don’t care what kind of magic you use.”

"You don't understand what it's like!" Morgana snapped back. "The threat to my life just because of my magic! If I ever lost control, can you imagine what that would do?" She couldn't look at him anymore and lowered her gaze to the ground.

Harek gently lifted her chin, "Listen to me, you are not evil, and magic is only as good or evil as the person that wields it."

“You hardly know me.” She pulled herself away, “You don’t…”

"I care about you and want to be with you." He reached out a hand, hoping that she would take it, but she only backed away further.

Morgana could see the pain in his eyes, and it mirrored the ache she felt in her heart. "The only way to keep those I care about safe is to be alone." She whistled for her horse, and he came trotting through the trees to stand next to her.

“Morgana, don’t leave.” Harek stepped forward. “We can sort through this.”

She mounted her horse, "I'm sorry." With a kick, Drogon sped off, avoiding the remnants of the ambush, and leaving Harek behind.


	15. Sublime, My Brother

10 Days Later - Gold Coast - Sun’s Height

The trip took a little less time than the one from Stormhold to Solitude, but that was due to the fact that Morgana slept very little. She gave her horse the rest when he needed it, and that he required very few breaks was thanks to the gelding’s outstanding endurance. Upon her arrival, the stable board was prepaid, and at Enrick’s Public House inn, she found that a room had been prearranged for her stay.

After the innkeeper led her to the room and disappeared, Morgana sat down her bags and flopped onto the bed. She could see the light of the setting sun through the window and wished for sleep. Her thoughts and memories tormented her day after day, night after night, to the point where she had a constant headache from the stress she caused herself. She couldn’t get Harek’s face and the hurt she saw in his eyes out of her head. Reminding herself that it was for the best did nothing to ease her mind. Not even her books offered any relief.

She heard a soft knock and looked up to see a folded piece of parchment slide through the gap under the door. A minute passed by before she got off the bed to pick up the paper. Inside was a map showing the location where she was to go, and a simple phrase  _ "Sublime, my Brother."  _ It would probably take her a few hours to get to the location and didn’t specify a time for arrival. She decided that it would be best to go in the morning after some rest and it would be easier to find her way in daylight. At least having a contract would give her something else to focus on. With her mind made up, she crawled back into bed and attempted to get some sleep.

By the afternoon the next day, she found herself standing in front of a black door with a giant skull that had a red, she guessed, bloody handprint. The door was recessed deep within the surrounding rock inside a small canyon. Though the sun was warm, the area nearest the door felt cold.

When she stepped closer, she heard a raspy voice in a whisper, "What is the flavor of fear?"

Remembering the phrase, she replied, “Sublime, my Brother.” The door swung open to reveal a dark entrance leading deeper into the ground.

Morgana followed the steps, and when she reached the bottom, she entered a moderately-sized, sparsely furnished chamber. She could see another area to her left, and the cavern went deeper straight ahead. A blonde woman, an Imperial most likely, was walking towards her.

“You must be the woman that Argildur told me about. I’m Astara, the Matron of this sanctuary, and I’ve been awaiting your arrival.”

She nodded in reply, “I am; he mentioned you are in need of my services.”

“Indeed we are, but we will get to that in a moment. Follow me,” Astara turned and led the way deeper into the sanctuary. They passed very few people, who greeted her politely and stopped in a more secluded area.

Astara turned to Morgana, “Now what has our friend told you?”

“Only that my services are needed here.”

“There’s a bit more to it, and I plan on being honest with you. Our usual provider is missing; I haven’t heard from her in over three weeks now. There are rumors of at least two more that have disappeared. I don’t know how many people like you are available, but I had to reach out to Argildur in hopes of finding someone.” Astara paused. “With that in mind, I would like to request that you stay here on the Gold Coast, preferably here in the sanctuary, and if not here, then in Anvil. I can have someone take your horse back to the stable where it will be taken care of.”

Morgana was unsure about the proposed arrangement, “For how long?” The confirmation that contracted necromancers were, in fact, disappearing was a significant concern for her wellbeing.

“At least a couple weeks, maybe up to a month. It is uncommon that we have use for someone of your talents, so the time between jobs can sometimes be quite long.”

She wanted more information, “I’m guessing that your last one went missing between contracts?” 

Astara nodded, “Yes. We will, of course, increase your pay and make sure your stay is comfortable. You will not be bothered during off-hours or have any association with official Brotherhood activities. Any jobs that come up, you will have an escort to the location; we do not bring that sort of business in here.”

“What if another circumstance doesn’t arise in a few weeks? Will I be free to leave?” She didn’t mind the idea of staying in a remote part of Tamriel, but the idea of being kept inside the sanctuary was not ideal.

“You will not be held against your will, only by what we agree on for your contract,” Astara replied.

“Of course.” Morgana thought for a moment, “I will stay within the city of Anvil, and then in a few weeks, we can revisit my need to stay.”

They spent the next couple of hours going over the details of Morgana’s contract, payment, and any additional concerns. 

Once they were finished, Astara turned to her again, “Now that everything is settled, are you ready to perform your magic, or do you need time?”

“I’m ready,” Morgana replied.

“Good, this one was difficult to keep the area secure while we waited for you. There are... circumstances that are unclear about the death, and I need you to help us figure out what actually happened.” Astara started leading the way back through the sanctuary.

Morgana followed close behind Astara and kept quiet. More people had arrived and were milling about the caverns. They would stare at her when she passed, but none spoke, and they kept their distance. Once they reached the chamber close to the entrance, Astara called two of the people over.

“This is Morgana; she is helping us out since Allene is missing. Take her to the site, and we will see what information we get. Afterward, you are to escort her to Anvil and make sure she arrives at the inn safely.”

“Yes, Matron,” The two said in unison.

One of the two proceeded to lead the way out, Morgana followed, and the second assassin brought up the rear. Neither of them spoke a word until they were outside. She must have been down there for quite a while; the sun was low enough in the sky to be around dinner time.

The one in front finally spoke up, “Ride back to the road and turn left, follow it until you reach the city of Kvatch. Once inside the walls, the stable will be off to your left, leave your horse there, and wait along the left side of the building near the wall. We will signal when it’s clear. We will be following you, but you will not be able to see us until it is time.”

Morgana nodded and gathering Drogon from where she left him she mounted. She nodded at the two assassins, turned her horse, and rode her way out of the ravine. The directions were easy enough to follow, and the road was clear of travelers. She kept a slower pace to avoid suspicion and look more like a regular traveler headed to town for the evening. At the gates of Kvatch, the guards nodded to her as she rode by, Morgana nodded in return. The stables were tucked off to the left, and she paid the stablemaster for the evening board. With Drogon tucked into a stall, she slipped off around the building and tucked herself into the shadows next to the wall. Now it was time to wait.

The shadows where she was hiding grew longer while she waited, and soon the sun was beginning to set for the night. Where she stood, it was almost pitch black, the only sources of light were lanterns the stablehands used while they finished their chores. Some of the houses had light coming through the windows, and more were lit as the night began.

She felt a tap on her shoulder, and one of the assassins seemed to materialize next to her; the other stood a few yards off pressed against the wall. They signaled her to follow quietly, again, one of them led while the other came up behind. They weaved around houses and other buildings to make sure they were always in the darkest corners. Since she was unfamiliar with the city, Morgana got quickly turned around and gave up trying to figure out where they were going. The leader stopped at the end of an alley by the wall, crates and barrels blocked the way. They signaled her to crouch down, wait off to the side, and began to move some of the barriers silently. Once a hole was made and the coast clear, she was ushered through.

What had looked like a simple alley filled with storage crates and debris was actually a false front covering a crime scene almost frozen in time. If not for the partial decay of the corpse, it could have just happened yesterday. One body was sprawled out on the ground, a commoner, dried blood pooled under his throat. The other was against the wall in a slumped sitting position, one hand resting on its lap covered in blood, signs of a large wound to the ribs, and the armor was similar to that of her two escorts. A blade sat just out of reach from the body against the wall. She knew that sometimes assassins were caught, rarely, but the job came with risks.

“Please, stay as far back as possible.” Morgana stepped carefully into the center of the space and began her ritual.

She called to her magic and blue flames formed in her palms, she moved her arms fluidly, and as her arms rose in an arch, the bodies lifted from the ground. As she held her position with her arms out to her sides and blue light dancing, spectral images played out a scene before them. The movements of the images replayed the last moments that led up to their deaths. There was minimal dialog, and Morgana paid no attention to it; that was the job of the assassins. She maintained her focus until the scene ended, and the images faded on their own, and then she gently let the bodies down. Her companions said nothing and ushered her back out of the hidden area.

Morgana was secretly escorted back to the inn in Anvil after she got her horse from the Kvatch stables. Inside her room, she was able to remove her cloak and finally relax. She felt drained, exhausted from the day, and the use of so much of her magic. The death-memory ritual was something she didn’t perform often, and it took more effort to maintain the connection for multiple dead. Now that she was no longer required to think only about the job at hand, the repressed thoughts and feelings came crashing down. The guilt, doubt, and fear came at her in waves once again. Was this going to be her life, reliving her pain and regrets over and over again until she broke? She saw no end and no other way to deal with the emotions than the way she always had.

The days passed uneventfully in Anvil, day in and day out she went about a make-shift routine of reading, walking, exercising Drogon, and taking her meals in her room. The Dark Brotherhood paid for her lodging, meals, and stable board. She bought more books after reading all of the ones she already had, and another saddlebag to carry them. Even after the first week, she read all of the new books, some more than once. There wasn’t even a ghost encounter to break up the monotony during that time. Each night she dreamed of Harek, and during the waking hours, her mind would wander back in time to relive the memories of those few days in Solitude. Then she would circle back to the guilt and fear, and the cycle would start again. After a time, she fell into a state of numbness and hardly left her room. 

Requests for her service were scarce after the job when she first arrived. She had been in Anvil for almost three weeks before they called for her again, and Astara was reluctant to discuss her being allowed to leave. This was fine with Morgana; she had nowhere else to go. 

It wasn’t until the end of the fourth week that she began to get restless and feel the desire to leave. She took Drogon outside the city for some exercise; he, too, was unhappy with the restrictions. The late afternoon was warm but not overly so and riding with the breeze was comfortable. The plan was to ride to Kvatch and back without entering, and it should be enough to take away some of the restlessness. They galloped almost the whole way there, but on the way back they slowed to enjoy the evening.

Over halfway back to Anvil, Drogon stopped and tossed his head, not wanting to continue, and at the same time, she heard a snap from a twig followed by sounds of a scuffle up ahead in the brush. Her horse reared and pivoted on his hind legs, but not before she felt an arrow pierce her side. She fell from the horse and landed on the hard-packed road. It was hard to move, and as the seconds passed, it became impossible. 

The horse no longer concerned with fleeing stayed by her side, stomping his feet. She could hear groans and stifled screams and then silence but was unable to lift her head to see what was going on. Out of the corner of her eye, through the cover of brush, one of the Dark Brotherhood assassins came out to where she lay. 

Their face was covered, but she thought she recognized the female voice, “This will hurt.” 

The woman yanked the arrow from where it lodged, and Morgana ground her teeth to keep herself from screaming. The assassin then took off a glove, and their hand glowed with warm light. She could feel the bleeding had stopped and the magic healing her wound. Slowly she could begin to move and eventually sit up.

“We need to get you to the sanctuary.” The assassin continued after Morgana was fully healed. “My companion will go to the inn and gather your things.”

She was helped onto her horse, and the other woman got on behind her, time was of the essence. They rode as swiftly as possible to the sanctuary, guided by the female assassin; the route was quicker, and they reached the black door safely. The woman ushered her inside before taking care of her horse and instructed Morgana to find Astara; she would follow shortly. 

It didn’t take her long to find the Imperial woman and gave her account of what happened. The woman told her to sit and offered her a stiff drink, which Morgana declined. She was still in a bit of a shock, unsure of what exactly happened out there on the road. 

“It is no longer safe on the Gold Coast for you.” Astara decided. “I will send a letter to Argildur once I get the details from your escorts. Until then, you will stay within the sanctuary.”

After a few minutes of waiting, the two escorts entered the woman that healed Morgana and a tall man, each still covered their features. The man carried her saddlebags, packed with her belongings, and handed them to her before returning to stand beside the woman assassin. Astara instructed them to recall the events.

First, the woman spoke up, “On the way back to Anvil, we encountered hired thugs or rogue assassins, we are not sure. They appeared to have been waiting for her to ride by and ambush her. We were able to take care of the threat, but not before she was shot in the side by an arrow. She fell from her horse, but I was able to get to her quickly and heal her. The arrow was coated in a poison meant to immobilize the target, not kill.”

“Upon inspecting the culprits, I located various cuffs, shackles, and chains with anti-magic runes. I would suspect they intended to capture her.” The male added; the words made Morgana’s stomach drop.

Astara made arrangements for her stay and sent word to Argildur as promised.

Morgana waited uneasily within the sanctuary. She hadn’t slept since the attack and would spend most of her time pacing. Her life had been threatened, and the only thing she thought about while she lay in the dirt was Harek Ragnarsson. She knew that she needed to get out of the Gold Coast, but to where? Her heart wanted to go back to Solitude, but her mind argued that it would be wiser to stay away. There was nothing else for her to do while she waited, but think. 


	16. Surprise Destination

It was two days later that Astara finally asked her to meet her.

Astara gave her a reassuring glance when she entered and gestured to a chair for her to sit, "I finally got word back from our friend, and he apologized for the delay, but he had to make arrangements."

“What arrangements?” Morgana tried to hide her impatience, but she fidgeted in her seat.

"In a few hours, you will be escorted to the back side of the Mages Guild in Anvil. There you will await the arrival of a mage sent by Argildur; they will arrive by portal. The mage will then create a different portal for you and one for your horse, which they will escort through. After that, he will get in touch with you."

“Thank you,” Morgana stood from her chair. “I will go pack my things.”

A few hours later, she was standing behind the Mages Guild in Anvil, her escorts hidden somewhere in the shadows. Drogon grazed beside her, showing more patience than herself. She had taken her bags off of the saddle and had them at her feet, not knowing how far away she would end up from her horse. Time was ticking on, and she was beginning to worry that the portal would not appear.

It was then that a few feet away, sparkling light appeared and began to swirl and pulse. An image started to appear, a male mage appeared in front of the portal having passed through the light. The portal flickered and faded behind the mage until it was closed and then disappeared altogether.

The mage nodded to Morgana, and she nodded in return. He turned his back to her and worked on creating the portal for her. It felt like it took longer than it actually did for the mage to create a new portal, but finally, the shimmering, pulsing light was there in front of her. She passed the reins over to the mage, picked up her bags, and gave Drogon a pat before stepping through.

She appeared in a large room with a fireplace at the far corner, table and chairs, storage crates, and assorted food storage. To her right, she could see a bedroom that appeared to be unused with two single beds and a couple of dressers. The fire was low, but she didn't see any other signs that someone was there. She took a few steps forward and placed her bags on one of the tables, and removed her cloak. Then to her right, she could see a recess covered by a folding divider and stairs leading up. If this was where she was supposed to stay, she decided that it would be good to check the place out and started up the stairs.

At the top, she found herself at another floor with seating, a large dining table at the far left, a bar with a couple of stools to her right, and the stairs continued up to another floor behind her. She took a few steps into the room and noted there were two doors that might lead to other parts of the house or outside. Above her, she heard a door close. Startled, she looked back around to the stairs, and then she heard whistling. Someone was coming down the stairs from the upper floor. She wasn't sure what to do and saw nowhere she could quickly hide, she could only stand there and wait.

The person she saw coming down the stairs was not who she expected. She could only stare as the tall Nord with braided brown hair strode down the last few steps dressed only in trousers and boots. Just the sight of him sent her heart racing. On occasion, she dreamed of seeing him again, but nothing could have prepared her for the onslaught of emotion. He stopped at the base of the stairs in shock, and judging by the startled look on his face, he didn't expect to see her standing there either. She wanted to run to him, have him embrace her, kiss her, but she was frozen on the spot. The doubts invading her thoughts prevented her from acting on the impulse.

Harek looked at her in disbelief, his eyes looked her up and down. “Are you really here? Am I dreaming?”

She could only nod or shake her head in reply to his questions; that was all he needed. In just a couple of his long strides, Harek crossed the room, lifted Morgana off the floor, and their lips met. They held onto each other tightly, afraid that the other would disappear. His tongue gently glided across her lips, and she opened them eagerly, the kiss deepening. All of her thoughts and fears were momentarily forgotten, she could only think of him.

Harek broke the kiss, but he didn't put her down and stared at her with his usual smile. "You're really here!" He looked puzzled for a moment but then looked at her curiously, his smile never faded, "How did you get here anyway?"

Morgana took a moment to catch her breath. “Argildur arranged a portal...”

"Why am I not surprised." He chuckled and kissed her again before finally setting her down. "I had a feeling he was involved somehow when he kept avoiding my questions and requests." Harek kept his arms around her, and Morgana kept her hands resting on his chest.

"You tried to find out where I went?" She wasn't angry, on the contrary, she was surprised. After what transpired between them, she kept telling herself that he wouldn't want to be around her, let alone try to find her.

"Of course I did, I needed to know that you were safe. It drove me crazy, not knowing. When you left..."

She could hear the lingering pain in his voice and looked away, “I’m sorry, I thought it was for the best.”

He turned her face gently and looked deep into her eyes, “I meant what I said then, and I still feel the same now. Please, stay with me.”

Morgana stared back at Harek in disbelief and searched his face. In his eyes, she could see the depth of his feelings, and being held in his strong arms, it was easy to forget her reservations. He was the only one that made her think that it was possible to share her life, her feelings, or her heart with someone else. This Nord in a short time had made her laugh again and had accepted the fact that she was a necromancer without hesitation. That realization made her heart skip, and her decision was made.

“I will.”

Harek beamed down at her, burst out laughing, and lifted her up again. Morgana smiled, wrapped her arms around his neck, and held on as he spun her around. The weight lifted from her shoulders was more of a relief than she expected.

He stopped spinning before he made them dizzy, and his lips found hers. His one hand slid gently down her back to her backside, lifted her up higher, and her legs wrapped around his hips. He moved from her lips to trail gentle kisses along her jaw and down her neck to her collarbone. Harek's other arm supported her as she arched her back in response. Her hands roamed over the bare muscles of his shoulders while he continued to leave a trail of kisses. She could feel the heat increasing between them, and her own unfamiliar desire wanted something more.

Still holding her, Harek walked over to a barstool to his right and sat her down. Her legs remained locked around him, and his hands were free to feel the shape of her body that hid beneath her clothes. His lips came back to hers while his hands roamed down her side and her thighs before moving back up, one hand cupped her breast and gave it a gentle squeeze. A gasp escaped her, and she could feel his lips curve into a smile before he deepened the kiss again. He pulled her even closer and slid his hands under her shirt to feel the smoothness of her skin. Having the rough texture of his hands gliding over her skin sent a tingling sensation all through her.

She felt his fingers grab the bottom of her shirt and placed her hands against his arms, he paused and looked at her expectantly. “I… I’ve never done this before.”

His smile was sweet and his voice caring, “I’ll stop if you want to stop, and only when you’re ready…”

Morgana interrupted his reply with a passionate kiss, but his hands remained still, resting on her hips. She reached down and took the hem of her shirt from him, lifting it and removing her arms from the long sleeves. Only when she needed to pull it over her head did she stop kissing him and drop the shirt to the floor. When her shirt was removed, he saw that she had a large, ornate, black dragon tattooed on her fair skin. It started above her right breast, went across then under her left breast, and then back up around her left shoulder and continued to her back. She had another tattoo that looked like a simple, black flame on the inside of her right forearm. He stood there in surprise, and as his eyes trailed over her and his fingers traced the path of her dragon tattoo. She could feel his desire pressing against the insides of her thighs, and felt her own growing from his touch. He paused to look deep into her eyes; she was surprised at the confidence she felt as she looked back into his.

Harek took a step back, removed her legs from around his hips, and lifted her from the stool, cradling her in his arms. Carefully he walked over to and up the stairs. They entered the loft that was a mixture of an office and storage, but he continued to carry her towards the door on the left side of the room.

"Hold on tight," He whispered, and she followed his suggestion. Without putting her down, he adjusted his hold enough to reach out and open the door.

Inside was clearly his bedroom. The wardrobe doors were left open, and the sheets and furs on the bed were tossed about. Harek walked over to the bed and laid her down softly. He took off his boots and then laid out on the bed next to her, his lips meeting hers. His hand traced the curve of the dragon, and when it reached her left breast, he held it. Gently he fondled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and she couldn't help but moan against his lips.

He shifted his weight, so he was mostly over top of her, but kept himself propped up. His mouth followed the trail of his hand, leaving kisses until he reached the nipple and sucked on it gently. She moaned and arched her back with the sensation, and when he moved his lips to her other breast, she let out another moan. He shifted, continued the kisses downward to her waist, and the flat of her stomach. Quickly he untied her breeches, slid them down and off her legs, and trailed more kisses as he came back up. His hand found the soft area between her legs and rubbed the nodule there with the tip of his finger. Morgana closed her eyes and grabbed the blankets beneath her. A new, overwhelming feeling was building up inside her, and she had no control over it. The pleasure she felt had her gasping and crying out, every sensation pushing her closer to the edge.

Harek paused, his own breathing heavier, and his voice was deeper, huskier. "Are you sure? I need to hear you say it."

Morgana opened her eyes to look at him, “Yes, Harek.” He kissed her deeply and moved off her to remove his trousers.

Once the rest of his clothing was gone, she got to admire all of him. He was so much taller than her, and though she had seen him shirtless already, his physique was impressive to her. Not that she had anything to really compare it to. She worked on memorizing his body, the span of his shoulders, the strength of his arms, how his chest and abs narrowed to his hips. Her eyes took him all in, but when her gaze met his erection, she tensed nervously.

Harek saw her tense, “Morgana, do you trust me?” He laid down on the bed next to her.

“Yes.”

He kissed her passionately, and his hand found the spot again. She lost all feelings of nervousness, trusted in him, and she was almost immediately on the verge from just his touch. Releasing her from the kiss, he bent down and took one nipple into his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue around it. The sensations together were overwhelming, and she orgasmed, crying out Harek's name with her release. She felt him shift position to between her legs. He kept himself propped up above her, kissing, suckling, rubbing, and extended her waves of pleasure. Her hips arched up to meet his erection as he entered her, slowly and gently. She barely felt the twinge of pain before pleasure overtook the discomfort. He steadily pumped himself in and out of her; the feeling of him filling her pushed her again towards her peak.

Morgana reached out and pulled Harek towards her, so their bodies were pressed together. She kissed him with all the passion and desire, her nails dug into his shoulders. He groaned and picked up his speed. She matched the rhythm with her hips, and both of them climbed to their climax. He whispered her name against her neck with a moan as he shuddered with his release. She cried out as she went over the edge, and together they rode through the last of the waves of pleasure.

They lay together, breathing heavily as they looked into each other's eyes. Harek propped himself up, smiled down at her, and gave her a quick kiss on the tip of her nose, which made her smile. For once, at that moment, she felt truly relaxed and at peace with who she was. While she was there with Harek, she could let down her guard, and now that she knew what it felt like, she didn't want to let it go. When he tried to move from atop her, she held on, and the resistance made him chuckle.

She smiled, “Where are you going?”

“I don’t want to crush you.”

"You're not." She shook her head stubbornly and held on tighter. 

Harek smirked playfully and quickly rolled onto his back, bringing her with him. She ended up straddling him, supporting herself with her hands on his chest, while he stayed inside her. Her hair had come out of most of the pins, and the curls cascaded down around her shoulders and face. He brushed her hair away, tucking some behind her ear, as she sat up, and then rested his hands on her thighs. It was then he noticed more of her tattoo, the tail of the dragon encircled her thigh almost two times.

“I’ll admit, I was not expecting you to have this,” His fingers traced the ink on her thigh, up her back, around her shoulder, and down and around her breasts.

Morgana shuddered with delight from his feather-light touch, “I tend to cover it up.”

"You should show it with pride; it takes a strong person to get such a large tattoo. Well…" He cupped her breasts with his large hands. "Maybe don't show this area…" She could feel him stirring inside of her, and she could feel her body responding.

Unsure of what to do, she hesitated. Harek moved his hands to her hips and guided her up and then back down onto his hardening erection. She got the hang of the rhythm after a moment and gained her confidence as she watched his reactions; she increased her speed slightly and rolled her hips a little as she moved. He let out a groan and encouraged her to go just a bit faster with his hands and hips. There she found a sweet spot and felt herself building again. She moaned with pleasure and her eyes closed.

“Open your eyes,” Harek whispered.

Morgana did what she was told and saw the caring and desire in the deepness of his blue eyes. As she watched him and saw the pleasure on his face, it brought her closer and closer to her peak, quicker than before. Then finally, with a gasp and a shudder, she came, and as she rode out her orgasm, Harek moaned with his release.

They were breathing heavily again, and Morgana bent forward and rested on his chest. Harek brushed his fingers through her hair, removing more of the pins, and wrapped his other arm around her. The simple gesture was relaxing, and she realized how tired she was. She was sweaty and sticky, but at that moment she didn’t care. 

There was no need for words as they laid there together, their breathing slowing as they relaxed. She heard Harek yawn, and he shifted her just enough so he could pull out. Morgana moved off to lay against his side, tucked in the crook of his arm, her head rested on his shoulder and her arm on his chest. Harek pulled the blankets over them. He wrapped his arm around her, holding her close, and with his other hand, he took hers. 

In the comfort of each other's arms, they drifted off to sleep.


	17. Cold Bath

It wasn’t until late the next morning that Morgana woke up, and she found herself tucked into the space in front of Harek. He was pressed up against her back and had one arm around her, keeping her close to him, still asleep. She tried to move to get out of bed, but the moment she did, his arm tightened. A few minutes passed before she tried again and succeeded in slipping from his grip. 

When Harek woke, Morgana stood in front of the mirror as she tried to untangle the mess of curls and pins, still naked. As he watched her, his eyes took in every inch of her, from the bright red flowing curls to her tattoo as it twisted and turned down her back, then to the curves of her hips and backside, and down her lean legs. He watched her for a while, not saying a word as he laid there in bed, unknown to her that he was awake until he spoke.

“Morning, beautiful! Or is it afternoon?” He chuckled.

She turned and gave him a quick smile, “Still morning, I think,” Then went back to her task.

“How are you feeling?” He watched her closely as he climbed out of bed and walked over to stand behind her, his hands rested on her hips, “It’s natural to be a bit stiff after your first time.”

“I feel fine.”

Harek raised an eyebrow at her in the mirror, “Morgana…” 

She turned around and put her hands on her hips, stubbornly, “I’m fine, really.” There was some soreness, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle. The sight of him in front of her nude, on the other hand...

“Would you want to have another horse race later, then?” He teased and received a quick punch in the arm that just made him laugh. “I have an idea, just wait here.” A quick kiss on the top of her head, and he left the bedroom.

Morgana tilted her head and watched him leave, admiring the way every muscle flexed as he moved, the chiseled perfection, the round curves of his backside, and she remembered how it felt to have that body against hers. When he was out of sight down the stairs, she turned back to the mirror and saw her face flushed and her green eyes bright. She finished removing all of the pins and brushed her hair with her fingers, but he still didn’t return or call for her. While she waited, she tidied up the room, collected their clothes near the door, and went to make the bed. What she saw on the sheets made her embarrassed, even though she figured it would happen, and that’s when she heard Harek coming up the stairs. She quickly tried to hide her face and the evidence on the bed.

“All set…” He entered the bedroom, saw her standing by the bed, and paused. His cheerful face turned to concern when he saw the look on hers. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” She continued to fiddle with the bedsheets and furs. “I’m just making the bed.” A quick glance at the sheets, paired with her embarrassment, and anyone could figure out what she was fussing over. 

Harek walked over and gently took hold of her hands, making her drop the blankets. “Nothing to worry about, I’ll take care of that later.” He let go of her hands and scooped her up. “I have something waiting for you downstairs.”

It was hard not to notice that he was still walking around nude, and she, still naked herself, was being carried down both flights of stairs to the ground level. She could feel herself blushing. They reached the room divider she remembered walking past after she arrived and he put her down on her own two feet. The fireplace over in the corner had the fire built up, and it took away the chill from the stone house.

With a smile and an exaggerated bow, he pushed the divider aside, “Your bath awaits.” 

Inside the modest room was a sizeable two-person tub filled with steaming hot water, and a fragrance she couldn’t quite place. She had never seen a tub so big, but it figured that Harek would need one to accommodate his height. 

“Funny, I wouldn’t have expected this…” Then with a straight face, “I didn’t think Nords bathed.” The look on Harek’s face, as he was first caught off guard and then realized what she said, made her burst out laughing. 

He soon followed with his own laughter, “Oh, is that what you think?…” Before she could step away, Harek picked her up and gently dropped her into the awaiting tub with a splash.

The tub was just deep enough that she went under the surface of the water when he let go. She surfaced, took a deep breath, and wiped her hair out of her face. Harek, still laughing, undid the braids he kept his hair in and stepped into the warm bath. Morgana took the opportunity to splash him and move toward the opposite seat in the tub, but she felt him grab her by the waist. 

He sat down and simultaneously pulled her through the water and into his lap. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Nowhere.” She leaned her back against his chest and let the warmth of the water seep into her. Harek wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned against the back of the tub. The warm water was relaxing and did help with the soreness. They relaxed in the water for a few minutes without speaking and just enjoyed the moment.

Morgana sighed after a while, slipped from Harek’s lap, and knelt on the floor of the tub. She quickly sunk under the water and came back up, getting her hair completely wet again. Behind her, she heard Harek slosh in the water and the sound of containers knocking about. Wiping water from her face, she turned and saw him picking through what she guessed were soaps and bath additives, the table just within his reach without leaving the bath. He brought one of the bottles closer and dumped some of the contents into his palm. After putting the container back, with his other hand, he indicated she should turn back around.

“I can wash my own hair.”

He smiled with a playful glint in his eyes, “I didn’t say you couldn’t, just indulge me.” Once again, he motioned with a finger for her to turn around. 

She opened her mouth to protest, but decided against it and turned around. The feeling of Harek running his fingers through her hair and gently lathering the soap was relaxing, but at the same time shivers of delight ran down her spine. His fingers massaged her scalp and then continued to massage down the back of her neck to her shoulders. It was delightful. She could feel herself melting into his touch, and her eyes closed. Harek finished washing her hair and using his hands he began to rinse out the suds.

In her relaxation, she felt herself falling, pulled deep within, and yet far away. When she opened her eyes she was in a room that was becoming familiar, and her body was strapped tightly to a rack. The stone table was a few yards in front of her, dried blood on the rough surface, and chains hanging off the sides. The usual table of sharp implements had moved closer to her current position. She looked around frantically and fought against the bonds. Panic rising within her; she could hear talking coming from behind the door and the voices were getting closer. Someone was coming.

The door creaked open and only one hooded figure walked in, turning to close the door behind them, and they turned towards her. In the torchlight, she could see the face of an Imperial man. His features were drawn into a snarl, a look of disgust like she was a skeever, or something stuck to the bottom of his shoe. The hatred in his dark eyes sent a cold shiver down her spine.

“You have been able to resist your treatments, my Mistress will be displeased.” He walked over to the table and picked up a blade, testing its sharpness. “Mistress has given me another idea that may sever your connection to the abhorrent, evil magic you possess.”

He walked over deliberately, fiddling with the strange blade in his hand, and continued, “This will hurt, but remember the pain is necessary for your purification.”

Morgana fought and struggled to move away from the man, but she could not move more than an inch. The chains bit into the flesh of her ankles and wrists; the straps pinched around her waist and neck. He brought the sharp edge of the blade down on her exposed right forearm, just above the black flame tattoo that was there. She could see blood trickling down from where the blade pressed against the soft skin. Then he began to saw back and forth, the cutting edge slowly, precisely removing the tattooed flesh. The pain was unlike anything she had dealt with and there was no chance of keeping herself from screaming. 

_________

Harek finished rinsing out Morgana’s hair and suddenly her body went slack. When he touched her shoulders to keep her from falling into the water she was cold as ice. The water in the tub around him grew cold and he could see his breath in front of him. He quickly lifted her from the water, sat down on the floor between the tub and table, grabbed the towels, and wrapped her up in both of them. Through the fabric he could feel her breathing grow rapid and she began to struggle, but he held her tighter against his chest. The screams that came next tore at his heart.

_________

Her agony echoed off the stone as the man continued to carve until the whole design was gone. What was left was a bloody, semi-rectangular shaped hole in her skin. The tears stung her eyes and her throat was raw. Her reprieve was cut short when the man moved the blade to another tattoo, and though she knew that it wasn’t one of her own, she felt him cut more skin from her body. Blood ran freely down her limbs and pooled on the dirty cobblestones. She could feel herself fading out of consciousness, the more blood she lost. He had cut too deep. 

Morgana came back to her own body with a jolt like she had been dropped. Her eyes flew open to see Harek looking down at her, worry, concern, and panic in his blue eyes. He was cradling her in his lap, thick fabric was wrapped around her, but she still felt cold. She quickly pulled her arm out from the towels and saw that the flame tattoo was still intact. Relief washed over her, and she fell back against Harek’s chest.

Harek’s hand caressed her face, “Morgana…” She looked up.

The appearance of a figure appearing in the open space left by the open room divider brought their attention away from each other. A man, or rather mer, stood there facing them, his appearance reflecting her vision and the cause of his death. There were large patches of skin missing and the one her eyes were drawn to was the place where a black inked flame should have been. Unconsciously, she put her hand over her own tattoo as she stared at him.

“Why must you put her through this?!” Harik growled at the specter through clenched teeth.

The mer appeared to ignore the Nord, “The beacons are coming for us; beware their purifying light.”

“Who is? Who is coming for us?” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, “Just those of us…”

The ghost shook his head, “The light comes for all.” Then with that he fades.

They both stared at the place where the spirit had been, Morgana’s heart beat heavily in her chest. She knew it now, all of the visions she had have been from other necromancers like her. They had all warned her that something was coming, someone had taken them, tortured them, but she didn’t know why. Whoever took those people was kidnapping all necromancers, not just the ones that chose to be different. What did it mean? She needed to get information.

Morgana pushed herself free from Harek and stood, the towels dropped to her feet. She remembered that her bags were still packed and sitting on one of the tables in the other room just outside the bath area. Determined, she pushed open the room divider further and strode over to her belongings. In one of the bags, she found a fresh set of clothes and started to dress.

“What are you doing?” Harek’s voice came from a few steps behind her; she could hear his damp feet on the stone as he walked closer.

She pulled up her breeches, “I need to go. I can’t wait for a letter.”

“Wait, what are you talking about? Go where? What letter?” Harek’s voice still had a tinge of anger, but it mostly sounded frustrated and concerned. She didn’t turn to look at him, afraid to lose her focus.

“I have to figure out what is going on. I need to go to Northern Glenumbra; it’ll only be for a short time.” She pulled a shirt up and over her head.

“Fine, but I’m going with you.”

“No, I can do this myself.” Morgana closed the bag and reached for all of them.

“I am not letting you travel alone.” He put his hand down on her bags, not letting her pick them up. “So, if you insist on going, then I am too.”

It was then she turned to face him, anger flashed in her eyes. “I don’t need you to take care of me. I don’t need help...”

“You are so stubborn!” Harek grabbed her shoulders firmly, “You don’t need to do everything alone. I know you can take care of yourself; you’ve already saved my ass once.” His voice softened, and his hand cupped the side of her face. “Morgana, please, understand that I do not think you are incapable. I need to know that you are safe, especially now that I’m hearing people are hunting for mages that can do what you do.”

She looked up at him with her eyes wide, the anger receding. “How did…”

“Darling, it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. When you questioned the ghost a moment ago, you mentioned ‘us’ and ‘those of us,’ and I guessed from there.” He gave her a warm, tender smile,

“It’s okay to have someone there for you, someone to help if you need it, and that doesn’t mean you are any less capable. Sharing your burdens with someone that cares about you doesn’t mean you’re weak. Personally, I think it makes you stronger; it takes strength to open your heart against your fears.” 

The idea that maybe she didn’t have to do this alone was hard to fathom. She had been alone and relying on herself for so long that it felt strange having someone there, someone that would have her back. Her anger depleted further as his words sunk in. She reminded herself of how she felt when she was with him, in his arms, and how she didn’t want to lose that. She remembered what made her decide to stay with him just the night before. Was she willing to deny herself that feeling, that possibility, again and again for the idea that it’s “safer” to go on her own, to be alone? That he would be safer? Something had to change. She had to change, or at least try.

“Ok,” Morgana smiled timidly, the anger gone.

Harek looked at her with his brows furrowed, “Ok, what?”

“We will do this together.”


	18. Tight Quarters

4 Days Later - Last Seed - Evermore

The boat rose and dipped in the harbor, the ramp flexed under the weight of the horses, and Drogon wanted nothing to do with it. Multiple times he balked and walked backward onto the pier, pulling the reins in Morgana’s hands. His eyes were wide, he snorted and lifted his head and tried to pull free from her grip. Behind them stood Harek and his dapple mare, who, if a horse could roll its eyes, she would have.

Morgana finally coaxed the gelding to lower his head and whispered close to his ear, “Hush, now. Do you want everyone to think you’re a coward? That mare is going to walk right up this ramp unafraid and you will never be able to live it down. You have faced things much worse, so what do you say?” 

Her hands stroked and petted the horse as she spoke, reaching slowly for one of the packs. The gelding responded with a shake of his head and another step backward. Finally, her hand found the bag and reached inside while her focus stayed on the horse and her voice trying to soothe him. When her fingers wrapped around what she was looking for she pulled it free, holding it behind her back.

She turned to look up the ramp onto the ship, saw a deckhand about to walk past, and whistled to get his attention. The lad turned, startled, then looked down the ramp at her when she whistled a second time. 

“Catch!” Morgana tossed the boy what was in her hand, a bright red apple, and he caught it deftly. “Hold it out.” The gelding had perked up when he sensed the apple, his ears forward.

“If you want the apple you have to go to him and get it.” A smirk played across her lips when she saw the desired reaction from the horse.

The deckhand did as she instructed and held out the apple towards the horse, understanding then what was going on. One step at a time the desire to get the apple was winning over the fear of the ramp and ship. Morgana walked calmly next to the horse, letting him think it was his idea to walk towards the treat and onto the ship deck. She could hear Harek laughing and the sound of his horse’s hooves on the ramp behind them.

Once they were on the deck, Drogon tried to snatch the apple from the boy’s hand. “Hey! Don’t be rude!” Morgana scolded, correcting the horse’s behavior with a quick tug on the reins. The boy tried not to laugh, and let the horse have the apple when she nodded.

Harek and his mare walked up to stand beside them, “Never a dull moment with that gelding of yours.”

“I’m glad you find him amusing. Can’t say the same for your mare, she finds him insufferable.” Morgana smirked, nodding to the mare’s pinned back ears and her snort at Drogon.

The lad ran off once the apple was gone and soon two other deckhands greeted them. Morgana and Harek removed their bags from the saddles, and then the horses were led below deck to their awaiting stalls. A third worker appeared shortly after to take them to their cabin. They walked down a set of stairs to the deck below and down a couple of narrow hallways until the man stopped at a plain wooden door on the starboard side of the ship.

“Here ya be, it’s small but comfortable.” The man opened the door for them before leaving to assist with further loading and packing.

Harek poked his head inside, “Well, he wasn’t kidding.”

Morgana stood in the doorway and could see the entire cabin. There was only one bed, which looked significantly smaller than the bed they’d shared in Solitude. A trunk was secured against one wall and they had a single, small window. A small table and two chairs were tucked into a corner. When Harek entered the room, he had to stoop to go through the door, and the top of his head was only a few inches from the ceiling. His large frame took up most of the space. 

This was going to be interesting. It was different sharing a large house with the Nord, but sharing this tiny room in comparison would be… a challenge. In his home, they weren’t there long enough to adjust to sharing the same space. During the trip, they shared a tent or inn room but with each one, they were only in them long enough to sleep and share intimacies. Sharing this cabin, when it was barely big enough for just Harek…

“Pardon miss.” Her thoughts were interrupted by a crew member that appeared to her side, needing to pass by her with some bags he was carrying. Morgana nodded and took the final step into the room and closed the door.

Harek turned to face her when the door closed and took her bags, setting them down on the floor next to his. He saw her unease, “It’s only for a few days and then we will be back out riding in the open air.” She nodded and he brought her in for an embrace.

They spent the remainder of the afternoon out on deck while the crew finished their preparations and they sailed away from Evermore. After they were well underway they were directed back to their cabin for dinner, and they sat at the tiny table. Their meal had been brought by one of the crew members and Morgana sat picking at the offerings on her plate.

“Have you sailed before?” Harek noticed that she wasn’t eating any of her food.

She knew he was trying to either distract her or figure out what was bothering her, and the truth was she couldn’t put it to words.. “Yes, I have made some trips for jobs.” Her nerves were tight like lute strings and the cabin felt even smaller than before.

“You left Solitude for a job, what is it that you do?”

She pushed her food around and glanced up to see his genuine curiosity. There was no reason to lie to him about it anymore, not after he found out about her magic. “I mainly provide my skills for… illicit organizations that need them, on a contract basis.” When she looked up again, she saw Harek’s surprise or shock and it caused her to flinch.

He must have caught the look on her face,“Hey.. I’m not thinking what you think I’m thinking.”

“Oh?” She narrowed her eyes at him and frowned.

“Yes, I’m actually impressed.” He smiled, “So then how did you find your way to Solitude?”

Morgana was not expecting him to be impressed by her… job. She expected repulsion or at least discomfort at the idea that she worked for the dark organizations in Tamriel. This man continued to surprise her with his open-minded acceptance, and it encouraged her to continue to be honest and open herself.

“Do you want the longer version or the short version?” 

Harek leaned back in his chair, food gone. “Well, we’re not going anywhere for a while.”

With a nod she began, “I took over the majority of the region for my mentor when she said I was ready. She established my name with them and gradually I was integrated into the system. About three or four months ago, she received a letter and sent me over to Mournhold. I found out just before one of the jobs that their contact for that region had disappeared. Afterward, I did a few jobs for the Morag Tong around Morrowind, but then I had enough and went back to Mournhold.” She paused to take a sip of her water. “I met a woman, Grenna, in… a secret part of the city; she purchased some alchemical ingredients that I can get easier than some. It turned out that Grenna had the...  _ acquaintance _ of a Shadowscale. We agreed to meet again in Stormhold in a few days.”

“It was a habit to travel at night, and it was during the trip to Stormhold that they were the first two to discover my powers. They were under attack by undead, zombies, so I used my powers to aid them. Then in exchange for the assistance, at the insistence of Grenna I’m sure, the Argonian agreed to meet, and it was then that he gave me Argildur’s name and that I would find him in Solitude.” She knew she left out a lot of details, but she was not yet comfortable spilling out all of the information.

Harek watched her while she spoke, occasionally taking a drink. It wasn’t until she finished that he spoke, “That’s quite the round-about way to get to Solitude.” He paused, most likely thinking before he continued, “Are we going to meet with your mentor? Is that who you were waiting for a letter from?”

“Yes, she was trying to help me…” She hesitated. “Figure out why the ghosts were appearing to me as they have been.”

“When did they start appearing?”

Morgana’s eyebrows scrunched as she thought, “Shortly after I arrived in Morrowind, so about three months ago.”

“That makes sense then; it lines up with what we’ve discovered.” He leaned forward on the table. She nodded, picking at her food again. Harek reached across the small tabletop and took her free hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Hey,” Morgana looked up into his eyes. “We will solve this.”

Morgana put her fork down and pushed the plate to the side, the food hardly eaten. Harek let go of her hand, stood from the table, and gathered up their dishes. He placed them just outside their door and returned to his seat before picking up conversation again.

“What is your mentor like?”

“My mentor is… odd, or rather a bit eccentric.” She appreciated his attempt to move the conversation to something less stressful. He was clearly curious about her and her life, but she was feeling uncomfortable revealing so much in such a short time. So she attempted to change the subject further, “How long have you lived in Solitude?”

“Almost ten years now,” He took her hand in his again and leaned back in his chair. “I moved there from Whiterun. Ever been there?” Harek smirked playfully, “I’m sure if I saw you there I wouldn’t have forgotten.”

“No, I’ve never been to Skyrim until recently.”

His eyes and smile both brightened, “Well then we will just have to make a trip and I will show you all there is to see, drink some true Nord mead, see the sun sparkle off of fresh snow…”

Morgana visibly flinched at the word “snow” and honestly, she wasn’t all that excited about the idea of drinking either. Harek saw the distasteful look she gave him at the mention of snow and chuckled. He stood from his chair, and with his hand still holding hers, he pulled her from her seat.

“The snow can be beautiful and there are ways to stay warm during the cold nights.” He brought her close and wrapped his arms around her.

She looked up at Harek and saw the playful, mischievous desire in his eyes. “Is that so?” Her heart began to race in anticipation.

Harek smirked and lifted Morgana off the floor, their lips meeting eagerly. Her arms wrapped around his neck and her hands entangled in his hair. With her growing confidence, she gently nibbled his lower lip and felt him smile. He brought her over to the bed and sat her down, knelt down on the floor, and amid their passionate kissing, their hands worked at removing each other’s shirts. The only pause was to get the clothing out of the way.

Their hands roamed, needing the feel, the touch of the other on bare skin. Harek guided her to lay back on the bed, leaving trails of kisses while he worked her pants free. In short order Morgana lay naked on the bed; Harek still knelt on the floor between her legs. His fingers traced along her inner thighs and his lips followed, the stubble along his jaw gently scratching the tender skin. She gasped from the sensation.

His fingers reached her nether lips and as he massaged the area she let out a groan. She thought she knew what was coming next and squirmed in excitement, but then she felt his tongue on that small node. A cry escaped her as he flicked and rolled his tongue around that sensitive bud of flesh. Her hands gripped the blankets and her back arched as he continued. She could feel herself building rapidly, her breaths came in gasps. Then he sucked on it gently causing her to cry out again. 

He only paused for a moment, she heard the rest of his clothing fall to the floor, and he joined her on the bed. His lips met hers and she could taste herself on him; his fingers continued where his tongue left off. She moaned against his lips. When she lost all thought and didn’t think she could last any longer, she felt him enter her. His hard member filled her and she heard him groan. He kept his pace steady, pumping in and out. 

Morgana matched his pace with her hips, arching towards his hand. He stopped the kiss and took a nipple into his mouth. All the simultaneous sensations sent her head spinning. That was enough to send her finally over the edge; she cried out as she came. Harek moaned and quickened his pace until he released shortly after. They rode out the pleasure together.

  
  
  


The next couple of days while they sailed towards Aldcroft, Harek and Morgana spent most of their time intimately inside their cabin with the occasional walk around the deck. There was not much for them to do on the small ship and even smaller cabin.

Morgana thought back to their conversation the first night on the ship while she lay snug in Harek’s arms that third evening. His mention of moving to Solitude from Whiterun almost ten years ago made her think, and she realized that they hardly knew anything about each other. They had yet to actually talk about personal topics, and part of that was her avoidance and the easy distraction of intimacies. She appreciated that he didn’t try to dig into her past and accepted her for who she was. Now she felt that there had to be more, there should be more, and that still terrified her.

Harek ran his fingers through her hair, “What are you thinking about?”

“A few things.” The fact that he seems to know when something was on her mind still startled her.

“Like?” His voice was soft, not pressing.

She turned her head to look at him, her chin resting on his chest. Instead of answering, she asked, “Do you have family in Whiterun?”

He smiled brightly, “Yes, I do. I have a sister, Freydis, and she lives with her husband, Hulrlund, and their two children.”

“What about your parents?” Morgana looked away as she asked and began to trace patterns on his chest with her fingers.

“My mother died after giving birth to my sister, and when I was sixteen my father was attacked by a sabre cat that had been stalking the farm.” 

She turned to look at Harek again, “I’m so sorry.” Harek’s smile had a hint of sadness to it and she felt her heart tighten.

Harek bent his head forward and kissed her lightly on the forehead, “Thank you. What about your family?” 

There it was, the question she knew that it was only fair that he asked and she dreaded answering. She wouldn’t lie to him, but part of her hoped that he would continue to accept her answers and not question her further.

“I don’t have siblings, and both of my parents are dead.” Her reply was truthful, though clearly not forthcoming.

He sat forward and propped himself up on the headboard, she had to sit up with the sudden movement. “You have no family? How long have you been on your own? What about friends?” His features displayed flashes of concern, sadness, and sympathy.

“No family,” Morgana looked down at her lap, taking deep breaths and fiddling with the blankets. She knew his questions were from the care he felt for her, but it still didn’t make it easier. “I was... thirteen when I went to apprentice with my mentor. So I have her… and Grenna is my friend.”

Harek lifted her chin so he could look at her and his thumb gently brushed her cheek, “And now we have found each other… You will never have to be alone again.”

Morgana knew how he meant it but she still felt a familiar pang of panic grip her chest. Her resolve, her stubbornness, buried the habitual urge to run, and instead, she smiled back at Harek. She reminded herself that Harek being there was no longer a point of fear, but of comfort. Focused on the intense blue of his eyes and she was able to relax, the tightness in her chest loosened. 


End file.
